A Medley of Musings

Serious health and life changes, call for a serious name change to this blog. In the past I tried to research my blog name, so it wouldn't be a duplicate blog name that someone else might have. I won't be researching it this time around, so the name is subject to change without notice. Life is kind of like that.

The hand made toys, Mini-Me Jan, and Rolly the Octopus are also something I have a passion for. Making hand made items, especially toys.

Thank you if you're sharing this journey of written blog words, and various assorted written musings, with me by reading my blog now.


Tuesday, March 25, 2008

My Cats Know

My cats know. I don't know how they know, but they know, that something's different. Something's changed with me. But I've often felt animals were smarter then people to begin with.

Skitzy seems like she's gotten her fur trimmed up somehow. And Cole doesn't seem to protest so much if he's left in only the one room with me. Neither seem to protest as much now that they don't get to run through as much of the house as much as they did before. Now it's becoming a daily rotation of what cat is left in what room, instead of an hourly rotation. Somehow they seem to know that's the best I can do for them right now. They don't complain. They just know. I don't know how they know, these things but they do.

Skitzy seems to have more different kinds of protests, as if to say to me, if something happens to you, what happens to us? Maybe it's her way of pleading with me, to try to get better, healthier, stronger. To do what I'm supposed to do, even when I don't want to, don't feel like it, when not doing it seems easier, or not worth the fight ahead for me.

Cole seems to accept it. Sometimes only wanting to put his dignified black head upon my knee, and to watch me carefully and often with his ancient and wise green eyes. He watches me close. They both share their cat blinks with me, guardingly and lovingly.

And I cannot control the splash of angry messy tears, that so often now needs to fall upon my face, unbidden, unasked for, but I certainly cannot say these tears are uncalled for or unwarranted. And not from even a point of needing to feel sorry for myself, but just to get the pain out, the tears out. Because they are there too, and they need to come out of my eyes, to be communicated like so many uncontrolling splashes on my face, just like my words need to pour out of my brain and my heart now. So I write, so I cry, so I blog, and sometimes I smile and laugh, and sometimes there's a glimmer of hope, no matter how small or insignificant it might now seem

My two cats, they know all this. I don't know how they know, but they do.

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