October 15, 2003

Who knows what proceeds, in the mind of a Cat? Thus spoke Flavius bar Knuckel on the occasion of his tabby Algernon's leap from a fourth floor balcony in pursuit of a wayward moth.

Yesterday, for reasons probably involving the savage pursuit of a strange cat that wandered into the general vicinity of her food dish, Bob the Cat vanished from the gated deck. This would have involved squeezing her considerable bulk through the small space between the bottom of the railing and the deck itself, and then a five-foot leap to ground. Once, shortly after we moved to the Manor, I saw her undertake such a leap in pursuit of another cat, and she was only brought to heel by my startled yelp. Yesterday, no one was around, and so she took off around 1PM.

Which was cause for great concern, for, being Fat and Domesticated, Bob is not wise in the ways of forest, skunk and motorcar.

Eventually, a downpour and merciless hunger brought her back around five AM, none the worse for wear.

Which was, honestly, a great way to wake up. Bob has been my boon companion for six years, now, ever since the night she wobbled out of the church graveyard like a witch's familiar and demanded that I take her home. I had resigned myself to the idea that she might exit my life as mysteriously as she had entered it, and was pleased that she decided that a warm dry house, a cat-shaped dent on the futon, and a regular supply of kibble--even Iams Diet Kibble--was preferable to a life of rain, mud, and strange creatures.

And then, this morning: driving winds along the river as I rode the ferry. The good, back-stiffening, blustery kind, that seem to blow through me and energetically cleanse me, as though my head is some sort of shiny Van de Graaf generator charged by the swift movement of the air.

(In case you haven't gathered by now, nothing of substance will be offered in this post)

And so, because of a missing Bob and a windy day, I feel somewhat lightened, today. No real reason, just as there was no real reason for several weeks' worth of heavy brooding and out-of-sorts-ness.

Hmmm...if I could put a missing pet and wind into a pill, I'd make a fortune...or, alternately, if I could restrain myself, I'd make more sense.

Avast!

To the oars!