“Any glimpse into the life of an animal quickens our own and makes it so much the larger and better in every way.” – John Muir
Sitting in the armchair, the one sacrificed to sycthe-sharp claws and morning baths, the one with shredded arms and a puddle of cat hair in the center that’s reserved for afternoon naps and the occasional commandeering of the person’s lap - the person with the attention span of a gnat who couldn’t stalk a mouse or bird or unsuspecting lizard if her life depended on it, but has a way of preparing meals and cleaning litter boxes that leaves no doubt - you are loved.
Sitting in the armchair plotting the murder of the audacious squirrels who frequent the porch during off duty hours - who conspire to steal food from the bird feeders and pee in my water bowl - who dare to sit and taunt me with their limited repertoire of curse words and complaints from the safety of the nearby holly tree. The person kindly adjusts the chair so my view of the squirrelish carryings on is unimpeded and I am free to chatter and chirp and slash my tail as I see fit - more proof that my wish is her command, even if she’s a little slow on the uptake.
Sitting in the armchair awaiting the daily indignity of being strapped into the harness, attached to a leash, and followed wherever I go by the person whose noisy, lumbering steps scare away anything I might have wanted to hunt. It goes without saying that this state of affairs is unbecoming and beneath a feline of my rank and position in life. Nevertheless it is a necessary evil lest I become permanently housebound like my neighbors, whose only view of the outside world is through the one-inch crack beneath their person’s window.
Sitting on, or rather assuming my rightful place on the armchair throne, so that the person is forced to sit on the floor at my feet. She’s tapping busily on her bright white picture board, working on something she calls Hug Mugs. She reads the words excitedly aloud and asks my opinion several times though she knows perfectly well that I have no idea what a mug is and find hugs abhorrent. However, she is using an image of my sister and myself snuggling and snoozing in the morning sun, which is a sign of good taste and artistic discretion. It is an all together pleasing picture, which makes me sleepy just looking at it. In fact, it is time for a nap so you will have to excuse me. Sweet dreams when you go.
Axle
Copyright 2025 by Jena Ball All Rights Reserved.
Hugs back 💕