So Says the Cat

As dusk falls, as the years gather like clouds, I sit at my desk searching, reaching for thoughts and words that sometimes seem to hover out of reach. The cat on the windowsill knocks softly on the pane. “Oh come on. Please let me in. It’s getting cold out here. It used to be fun playing with those little lizards, which always managed to hide out under a rock. I’m happier now though, curled up on the couch. Or even better sitting on top of the computer screen to warm my toes. My years of roaming are over and I just have to accept the fact that I’m not as fast at catching mice as I once was.”

I, too, wish I could open the window of my mind and let those thoughts make their way in. Like the cat, my days of roaming are over as I pull on one layer after another of sweaters and scarfs and wonder where I put the cane before venturing down the gravel driveway to get the mail. My thoughts once had no problem finding their way in, or out.

There’s a difference though. The cat depends on me. But I depend on myself. Isn’t it up to me to keep on being someone with something to say? There’s always the temptation to go to Facebook, which makes no demands on my intellect, or I can listen to the daily news, depressing as it may be. Coming up with something new and creative isn’t always easy, but it’s always worth the effort and is certainly more satisfying.

The cat doesn’t think into the future, about what could be. Nor does she think too much about the past, mulling over mistakes she may have made. Wishing she could change things. On the other hand I know the past is the past and that I can’t change anything.  I’m probably better off just listening to the cat and accepting my present state, trying to stay warm and hoping I’ll be fed and taken care of. I shall always be grateful for what I have and it is best to listen to what the cat has to say.