There is No 911

There is no 911 to call on this cold wet blustery winter day

when the second feline looks hesitantly toward the other, already nestled between my thigh and pillow supporting my research dungeon—the “happy” Apple computer—when that front left hesitantly placed orange paw tells me he wants to lie with us—near his brother and on my lap.  How can I say anything less than, “Come, mi amore.”

There is no 911 to call on this wet cold winter day, when my cup of herbs runs tepid and low, when the pot on the stove hisses overflowingly in that rhythmic reminder to not fill so full next time.  Cinco’s tongue licks affectionately on Jewel, who took him in tenderly when both arrived within months of one another ten years ago, in a cold winter season—both orange, both castaways, both irresistibly, themselves.  Entwined now, pot overflowing, teacup cool, pen empty of ink—and underneath their purrs, a computer beckons me away from my love of pen and paper, to tell of love.

There is no 911 to call on this cold wet blustery day when a writer’s home has pens further than an arm’s length away and the one in hand has run dry and persistently so.  Cat-presence nourishes, quelling even the writer’s desire to hold the muse for but one moment more.  While they need one another, the writer and her muse, she comes because these feline heartbeats warm our cagey souls and wrap our tenderness’s together, bringing us close and still.

There is no 911 to call when the dregs in the teacup are thick and chewy and cold.  The sinewy bitter bites of osha and ginger roots giving their fullest, right to the end that most often stew unexamined in those remains.  Over-full pot of medicinal tea hissing with metronomic perfection, will change  rhythm—the wave-pattern— in time, mixing with perfection the background hum of electric and gas stove heat.  This rich silence mixed with cat and human breath, weave our tapestry another love beat.

There was no 911 to call then as we lay together, feeling our  body's' warmth greater as three, now as one, sharing heartbeats—our love for one another—as there is no 911 to call today.  There is no moment to hold onto but the moment love takes you and makes you part of it.  Noble felines choose whom they honour in their lifetimes—who is worthy of their gentle discerning souls.  

Kat

12 December 2016