The Week of Cats

I’ve started meditating. I bought a cushion and stool because I can’t sit comfortably cross-legged with my wonky left hip. Charlie and Diego have purloined the cushion, however.

The feral cat… I can’t remember when we first noticed her. But it seems like at least last summer. I thought the two kittens we saw on New Year’s Day were hers. But no, there’s a spay incision in her belly, and the kittens haven’t been seen for weeks.

She came up to me one night, obviously looking for affection. From the woman who hurled blue frisbees at her. I petted her, then, feeling two hair mats on her neck, fetched a brush. She purred louder than any cat I’ve heard. Yeah. Right. Feral.

Elspeth was not only spayed, but microchipped. I need to marshall all my new buddhist resources not to feel murderous toward anyone who dumped her out here. Students: In June, when you leave, please don’t dump your animals. You’ll be consigning them to a life of a) ear mites b) infection, list too lengthy to detail c) death by coyote d) death by rodenticide e) death by shotgun.

Elspeth got lucky. She found a new home, through us, a life indoors that will spare her these risks. She’s a sweetie and I hope she does well. Now back to that buddhist thing…