The Blind Cat and Two Rambunctious Tom Cat Brothers
I often observe my cats. I stop and watch them interact with each other. Three personalities communicating through looks, winks, twists, turns, and nudges.
One of my cats is old. She is sick but battles on like a champion boxer who can’t quit.
I watch as she toddles through the apartment, stops at the threshold that leads into the kitchen then pads with her paw to find the step.
She is blind. Her nerves have taken a hammering from the sickness. She steps up, wobbles over the threshold and into the kitchen. Her next task is to navigate towards the food bowls.
I’m quietly walking behind her, I want to be sure she makes it without losing her way. I recently found her tangled up behind the toilet bowl, trying to figure out how to climb over the pipe. It’s confusing, and I’m sure it adds to her feelings of fear and helplessness.
I know that cats are important, but I’m not sure if I came to this myself, or whether cats nudged and winked me into this conclusion.
I have three cats, I always have three cats. Two recently returned to the clusters of stars whence they came, then a short while after, two more turned up to take their places.
