Friday Cat Blogging (Seasonal Affective Disorder from the Souls of Artists and Writers Issues of Non-Science-Geek Edition)
Because it is rainy and gloomy and February. With Futurist art!
States of Mind: Those Who Go
I don't miss her, but I miss you. You are the only cat I ever liked...and I think you liked me as I'm the only person you let pick up and walk around with. Sure, you were crabby, sounded like a rusty can when you were meowing, would ignore the laser pointer and got pissed at me when I needed to work and not pet you. Oh sure, you'd complain and make me feel bad for feeding you the same thing and at the same time as her other 2 cats, but did you notice I'd always slip you a piece of meat from my dinner plate? I know you were old and stairs were not as easy as they used to be, so I was always secretly glad and flattered to hear your voice by the bedroom door when I'd stay over. I know her kids liked the other animals in the house more then you, and I'm sorry, but I liked you better then her kids anyway. And yes, I know you watched me walk away that last time I left; I knew I wouldn't be coming back so I hope you found that catnip mouse I left in your secret hiding spot...you deserved 1 last rush in your old age.I'm not sure if you are even still alive as I haven't been by the house since March of 05, but I hope that you are happy, warm and still catching the beam of sunlight in your favorite spot.
Anyway, just wanted you to know that you were the only cool cat I've ever known and that I miss you.
States of Mind: Those Who Stay
Wislawa Szymborska, "A Cat in an Empty Apartment"
Dying--you wouldn't do that to a cat.
For what is a cat to do
in an empty apartment?
Climb up the walls?
Brush up against the furniture?
Nothing here seems changed,
and yet something has changed.
Nothing has been moved,
and yet there's more room.
And in the evenings the lamp is not on.
One hears footsteps on the stairs,
but they're not the same.
Neither is the hand
that puts a fish on the plate.
Something here isn't starting
at its usual time.
Something here isn't happening
as it should.
Somebody has been here and has been,
and then has suddenly disappeared
and now is stubbornly absent.
All the closets have been scanned
and all the shelves run through.
Slipping under the carpet and checking came to nothing.
The rule has even been broken and all the papers scattered.
What else is there to do?
Sleep and wait.
Just let him come back,
let him show up.
Then he'll find out
that you don't do that to a cat.
Going toward him
faking reluctance,
slowly,
on very offended paws.
And no jumping, purring at first.
(Note: My cat is fine, I'm fine, etc.)
For what is a cat to do
in an empty apartment?
Climb up the walls?
Brush up against the furniture?
Nothing here seems changed,
and yet something has changed.
Nothing has been moved,
and yet there's more room.
And in the evenings the lamp is not on.
One hears footsteps on the stairs,
but they're not the same.
Neither is the hand
that puts a fish on the plate.
Something here isn't starting
at its usual time.
Something here isn't happening
as it should.
Somebody has been here and has been,
and then has suddenly disappeared
and now is stubbornly absent.
All the closets have been scanned
and all the shelves run through.
Slipping under the carpet and checking came to nothing.
The rule has even been broken and all the papers scattered.
What else is there to do?
Sleep and wait.
Just let him come back,
let him show up.
Then he'll find out
that you don't do that to a cat.
Going toward him
faking reluctance,
slowly,
on very offended paws.
And no jumping, purring at first.
Posted at February 01, 2008 13:59 | permanent link