by Marta Felber
“I’m sorry, Ling, but this friend doesn’t like cats. In fact, she hates cats.” I’m wondering why M would want such a friend. I don’t know the friend, but I hate her already, just like she hates me.
“I’m counting on you not to come around.” M programs me. “Go out on the porch and watch the birds fighting for a perch, and maybe the chipmunk will come and fill his cheeks with leftover seeds.”
The doorbell rings. I am hiding behind the couch, peeping out, showing only one eye, so Cat Hater won’t see me. She is tall, and big. I don’t want to tangle with her. She makes M look even smaller than she really is. Cat Hater sits on the couch, with M facing her, on a chair, with a low table between them. There is music, a fire, and I can smell some spicy stuff M sprayed in the air. I see the teapot, lovely cups on little plates of their own and, best of all, my favorite cookies. I remember eating crumbs of the same kind. This would be just perfect, if M had invited me for tea, instead of Cat Hater.
I jump, very quietly, onto the couch behind Cat Hater’s head. Phew! I don’t like how her hair smells. When M sees me, her eyes get big. I walk back and forth behind Cat Hater’s head and, yes, M’s eyes follow me. Back and forth I go, back and forth, being careful not to touch Cat Hater’s funny-smelling hair. Tea is poured, and cookies passed. “Save some cookies for me,” I want to remind M.
Cat Hater finally says, “I must be leaving.” That is my signal, and I jump to the floor and hide nearby. “Thank you for keeping your cat out of sight. You know how I feel about cats.” I smile to myself.
Here’s my chance! M sees her friend to the door for their final good-byes. Escaping to my secret hiding place, I savor leftover crumbs stolen from the tea party, the tea party to which I was not invited.
Mewsings
Sometimes we don’t get invitations to events we would enjoy.
We feel left out and rejected.
Not everyone likes us, loveable as we may be.
In our minds we face our disappointment,
and then go on to enjoy what life offers us.
LOSING WEIGHT
“Do you realize Sterling has gained more than a pound since his last visit? He’s not overweight but, if he gets fat, you won’t be able to lift him. You’ll have to cut back on his food.” I like my vet, but I didn’t like what I heard him say. I like to eat. It is one of the things I enjoy most in life. I like to have food left over after breakfast, to nibble on throughout the day. I like a generous portion in the evening. But I always try to save some for a bedtime snack. Cut back? “You’ve got to be kidding,” I want to tell the vet. I want to ask, “When? How much?”
I soon find out. M searches through her kitchen drawer for a smaller measuring scoop. When I go to my bowl, I can see through the food to the bottom. Oh no! Rationing has begun. I start eating and gobble it all down until not even one crunchy morsel is left. I don’t want any of it to get away. I realize I have eaten more than usual at one sitting. If only I could burp, like M does when she is too full! As I walk away from the empty bowl, I wish I had saved a little for just before bedtime. It is too late. Already, I am looking forward to breakfast.
M is probably wondering why I am so very still, while she is reading in bed. I have a lot to think about. This cutting back on food is serious business. I continue to mull it over in my mind even after M turns out the light. Finally, I decide what I will do: eat slowly, and that will make it seem like more; always leave a little food in my bowl; keep away from the kitchen as much as possible, and get busy tossing my mouse when I think of eating. The birds and squirrels could use more of my attention. I can spend time chasing the ball around in my new circle toy.
Then I remember that M exercises to keep her weight down. I like to race around the house. I will race twice as much—maybe even faster, if that is possible!
Won’t the vet be surprised at our next visit? “My word, Sterling, you have lost more than a pound,” he will say.
Mewsings
There is an ideal weight range for me.
How would I feel if I were at that weight?
How would it affect my health?
I need a specific plan to get there, and commitment.
I need persons who can help.
I need a date to start.
SHOWING LOVE
Tell me. How do I show love to a human? I like it when M gives me what she calls a “deep massage.” But, when I give her what I consider a gentle love nip in return, she says, “Don’t bite,” and takes her hand away. I am confused. Sometimes I settle on her lap for a contented time of togetherness.
“Ling, I don’t want to look at your backside! Turn around.”
Isn’t my back as good as my front?
I see M hug her friends. It looks like showing affection but, with the difference in size, I don’t know how to manage a hug, myself. For long telephone calls, M does not hold the receiver in her hand. She puts it over her head, so her hands are free to pet me, while I lay in her lap. I put my front legs, let’s call them arms, around her arm, and we stay that way while she talks on the phone. Does that count as a long hug?
What is a kiss? Sometimes, when my face is close to M’s, she will touch her nose to mine and say, “Kiss?” Now, when she gets really close, I reach and touch her nose with mine. It feels good, but when I have tried to say “kiss” in the past, M hasn’t understood my word for kiss.
One time she said, “Ling, are you giving me a kiss or just smelling the fish on my breath from dinner?” Does that sound like love to you?
I know better than to begin the night close to Marta in our big bed. When I choose to go to bed, I jump up. If she has finished reading, she lifts me and puts me on what she considers my side of the bed. I wait until I hear her deep and steady breathing. Then I slowly move over to the curve of her body and snuggle there. It feels loving, and I go right to sleep. Toward morning, Marta begins to toss and turn. I either get smashed or pushed over. There goes closeness and loving!
Mewsings
Receiving love and showing love are essential to well-being.
We can show our love in words or actions.
We can respond to love using words or actions.
One should never question love.
Just accept it, however it is given, and remember to respond.
BEGINNING A PURRFECT DAY
What would be a perfect morning for you? Today would be one of mine. Why does M get up before the birds are at the feeder and singing their songs? They know when it is time to rise and shine and eat. That’s good enough for me. Today, she waits to make the bed until I have been fed. I don’t care if our bed is ever made up. She could save time if she left it open to climb into at night. It saved me time this morning when I didn’t have to trail her around, waiting for my food. Wait just a minute. She always, always goes to the bathroom first thing in the morning. Why not this morning? Did she go in the middle of the night? Maybe she did. She was concerned, however, about my going to my bathroom this morning after I ate. She appeared on the porch with, “Don’t you have to go potty, Ling?” I wish she would not use that term. Does she think I am a baby kitten? In my head, I reply, “I’ll go when I have to go, thank you very much.” It feels good to tell her off, even if silently.
It’s time for my Watch Patrol. There is a lot of activity in the yard! I rush from window to window. Here comes that tiny, tiny animal with stripes on its back. It runs too fast to be a squirrel. I think M calls it some kind of monk. I bet even I would have trouble catching it. Is it putting seeds in its cheeks? What a neat idea! I will try that tonight when I want to take food to bed.
I love it when the birds fight! This fight looks like a fun fight. I don’t have another me to fight with. That’s too bad. On second thought, I have Marta all to myself. Another one of me might get in my way with her.
I’m having so much fun on Watch Patrol that I forget my midmorning treat. Here comes Marta, with that false smile on her face and sweet tone. “Time to take your pill and then
you get your treat.” The routine is old by now. It is such a good day that I decide not to give her a bad time. I open my mouth, swallow the pill, and get the treat.
“Good boy, Ling. It was the easiest down-your-throat ever. It’s playtime, Ling. How about jumping for the mouse on a string?”
Whoops! Hold everything. I’ll be right back. I really do have to go!
Mewsings
First thoughts and first actions set the tone for a day.
We get our needs met, while helping others with their needs.
We look and learn from the natural world.
We assert our independence.
Once we start a purrfect day, we can continue the day that way.
PUTTING PIECES TOGETHER
“Sorry, Ling, I almost stepped on you. Sometimes you are as quiet and sneaky as a church mouse.” Would someone please tell me what a church mouse is?
I know what Sunday is, the day M goes to church. It is a special day. M always sets her alarm the night before. After she does her stretches in bed, there is no lazing around or complaining about having to get up. She is always in a good mood, as if she wants the day to happen. I wonder what the difference is. My routine seems the same. But, even the music on the radio is different. It has more of a steady beat, and I notice sometimes M is humming, and her eyes have an expectant look.
The newspaper is huge! She sorts out what she chooses to read while she eats her bigger breakfast than usual. I wait to see her read the pages that are colored. I know she will laugh, a number of times, and I want her to share what’s so funny. Other days the paper does not get any attention until much later in the day.
Everything is predictable on Sunday. She chooses her clothes more carefully, matching the color of her bag and shoes. The biggest difference is her shoes. First she puts on the stockings that go all the way from her toes to her waist, but I have seen that action many times before. It is the shoe choice that interests me. She always selects those shoes that go up in the back, off the floor. That is the silliest thing I have ever seen! Why would anyone in their right mind elevate the back of their feet? I tried it once and, you guessed it, I fell smack on my face. Sunday dressing is not for me!
Today something breaks the routine. As on other Sundays, M tells me she is leaving for church and goes to the garage for her car. This is my chance to start listing in my head the things I want to get into and check out when I’m alone. Before I can even start, however, she comes back, laughing. “Ling, I got in the car and realized I had on my bedroom slippers!” Then she leaves again, wobbling a little on the shoes that go up in the back.
M is different on her return from church. It is not something written on her face; it is a feeling I get. She is calmer, maybe more peaceful too. Whatever happens when she is away stays with her all day. It even seeps into me.
There is a piece missing in this picture about Sunday, the picture I have put together for you. How, in heaven’s (nice choice!) name, does a mouse fit in with all of this?
Mewsings
In our home, Sunday and church attendance happen weekly.
Perhaps something like this happens for others, maybe on different days.
It must provide benefits, like peace and calm,
or people would not do it so regularly.
As for me, I want to go also,
and catch that church mouse!
GIVING AND RECEIVING
If you are a human, instead of a cat, you might think my relationship with M is one- sided. I would not blame you. When I list in my head all the things that M does for me, I agree with you. She has to get my food from somewhere. She makes sure I have food two times a day. (I won’t mention here how I would like the quantity increased.) Although she seems stuck to the chair in her office, she does takes breaks several times a day to play with me. (I won’t mention here the times when she offers to play and I walk away to do my own thing.) She seems to know when I don’t feel well and does something about it. She bought a water fountain, and the water is always fresh. Best of all, she senses when I just want to be petted, very, very gently, with special attention given to my face and neck. I could let her do that all day!
I can’t speak for M, but I try to imagine what she appreciates in me. M must be lonely— lonely, I mean, for others of her kind. Of course, she has friends who come and go. I like all her friends. But they leave. I am always with her; at least, when she is home. I never leave the house. (As you know, I’m not allowed to go outside by myself.) M can always count on me. She searches for me, now and then during the day, just to be in touch and to talk. I never hear M talking to herself. That must be a no-no for humans. She doesn’t need to talk to herself, with me in her life. We have so much to say, throughout our day.
I always let her know when I am approaching her from another room, and she responds, “Yes, I hear you, Ling.” And our conversation continues.
Nights, however, are when she needs me most. Granted, it took her a while to let me sleep in her, now our, bed. The very last thing, when the light goes out, in the darkness,
I hear, “Good-night, Ling. Sleep tight. I’ll see you in the morning.” I sleep on my side of the bed and keep her company all night. I try not to disturb her until the music comes out of the box, sometimes before the light comes in our windows. Slowly, I walk over, stretching as I go. She reaches out, holds me and pets me, while she talks about what fun our day will be.
Mewsings
Too often we take important persons in our lives for granted.
Too often we forget to think about what they mean to us.
Too often we forget to tell and show them how much we care.
It is important to add and deepen togetherness times.
Being thankful is the most important part of it all.
CAUSING A CATASTROPHE
I make it a point to explore everything in my home, but there is one thing in our bedroom that I have not been able to investigate fully. It is tall, looks like a human, but never moves. I can barely see to the top. I think it is a woman, like M, but with no face. It has layers of material, and the outside layer is thin. If only I had my claws back! I would claw my way up to the top in a flash and view my world from there. The layer underneath is tight, and I cannot get through it, or under it.
Maybe I have just not tried hard enough. It is night, and M is reading in bed. I creep over to the tall, tight thing and try sticking my nose under it. My nose goes under, but not the rest of me. I push and push and wiggle and wiggle, and I make it! I am inside. I can see just a little light coming through the layers. This is really fun! Nobody knows I am in here! But, soon, I am bored. There is really nothing to do and not much to see. Suddenly, I feel closed in and it is hard to get my breath. I want out of here! Now!
I try getting out the way I got in, and it does not work. I am caught! I may have to stay here forever. Maybe I can get out at the top. I start jumping, first to one side and then to the other. I start howling at the top of my lungs. Nobody comes to help me. I run around faster and jump higher. I do it again and again. Something breaks and crashes down on me! I’m really trapped.
Then I hear M’s soothing voice. She pulls up the tight material at the bottom and I shoot out and race out of the room. Later I tiptoe back into the bedroom, and I see M sitting on the edge of the bed, laughing so hard she is crying. She dries her eyes on the edge of the sheet.
You think this is the end? I wish it were. For days, I hear M tell all her friends about the night I squeezed inside Esmeralda, her antique dress form. M vividly describes how Esmeralda got tipsy and collapsed into herself and onto me.
Mewsings
Investigating is fine if you can handle the consequences.
In a tight place, it pays to be very calm.
Call for help when you need it,
if there is someone close enough to hear.
Learn from experience.
See the humor in a situation and maybe laugh at yourself.
WONDERING WHY
I wonder why I like to play with creepy crawly spiders. (Could it be that I need to be in a position of power? I can always squash the spiders and eat them in the end, if I choose.)
I wonder why night always comes at the end of every day. (I do sleep better and longer when it is dark.)
I wonder why M speaks one language, and I speak another? (I’m thankful I don’t talk like her. But, if she understood Catonese, I could communicate with her.)
I wonder why I carry my make-believe mouse by its tail. (I must be copying what I saw another cat do, although I don’t remember who, when, or where.)
I wonder why I use my paw to wash my face and M finds a cloth to use. (Maybe I just like to be able to bathe whenever and wherever.)
I wonder why sometimes it is too cold on the porch, other times it is too warm, and sometimes it is just right? (I don’t know the answer, but I do wish I could control the temperature!)
I wonder why I see, hear, smell, taste, and feel things better than M does. (Whoever designed her must have been half asleep!)
I wonder why I eat only two meals a day and M has three. (Come to think of it, she is a lot bigger.)
I wonder why I like to climb up high and I am not afraid of being there. (I admit I like to be king of the hill and taller than M. I also like challenges and meeting them. It feels so good up there!)
I wonder why, when I go in my litter box, I carefully cover up what I do there. (Well, it belongs to me, and I can do whatever I want to with it.)