In the room there are three things; me, my writing, and the Cats.

The cats are an item, they are an entity. They eat and sleep as one, any one of them can disturb any one or three things in my life – all at once, as by one hand. They walk on me, throw up on me, pee in the litterbox, in the sink, in my shoe. They eat everywhere, they dream everywhere. There is nowhere not home to them.

I took my 100+year old bonsai to the hospital (bonsai hospital), Glenn looked at the tree: you still have a few mealy bugs, no scale, and you have cats. The tree is in a room where the cats aren’t allowed, I said. He looked at me like I was a poor foolish soul, there is no such place, he said.

Downstairs if you are upstairs and upstairs if you are downstairs, the cats collide. Up, in the bedroom they fly across the rug, they hit the door – all the doors – up to the fireplace, bounce off the cat tree – carefully constructed from wonderful smelling Pignon from New Mexico and sturdy enough to be climbed, scratched and lept from. Even though it sways mightily, it never falls. The T.V. is a jungle gym. Wonderful wires and a top to navigate like a tightrope walker. Yes, it is a flat screen and presents a tantalizing thrill to master.

There isn’t a rug that can’t be turned into a cave. Three moves and it’s done. Lift up the corner, paw to the triangle it makes, push paw under followed by body, lift up a little. The rug stays up and can be expanded. We have many so-called area rugs, each one a cave-in-waiting.

Downstairs in the kitchen the counter awaits. Filled with items needing to be redirected. Eggs to the floor, glasses of water, bottles of oil, containers of all kinds with myriad contents. All needing direction downward, all needing to mingle on what we humans call the floor. Our knives are blunted at their ends. Visitors see us as so careful, no accidents. We know the truth. The knives make a beautiful arc downward invariably landing point down, defying the laws of physics but not really.

The cats are action oriented. They don’t suspend judgement, they don’t have any. They are cats, and that is enough. Oblivious to the outcome, they live in the moment. They are presently, futurely, and pastly, cats. There is nothing else so fine as a cat.

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