A Cat's Eye View of Life and Love by Sterling

by Marta Felber

The ones today are those we choose to make real.

  In private, we look at our mirrored fears.

  One by one, we try to grasp them. It is not possible.

  They fade away, where they belong.

  MAKING WORK FUN

  M has lots of jobs to do every day. The job I have selected for myself is to make her work fun. Here is how it goes. Music from the radio wakes us up. M stretches, as I do, then slowly crawls out of bed and heads for her bathroom. I follow and keep her company. I put my front paws up on her knees and I say my word for eat. But she shakes her head and says, “Not yet, but soon.”

  The next job on her list is making our bed. Now is when our fun really begins. I keep her from making it by crawling under any cover she pulls up. She laughs. I stay as long as I can, and then I jump out and try to scare her. Next, I attack each pillow as she places it at the head of the bed. She laughs again, and puts each pillow back, in exactly the same position, every morning. Sometimes, though, I get her so rattled that the pillows are not in the same order. Maybe it really does not matter that much, after all. Why does she need so many pillows, and why must each be put in a certain place? That makes more work for her. But I allow her these little idiosyncrasies (bet you did not know I knew that big word!), and I continue to make work fun for her.

  I am sure that M needs some diversion during those long hours she spends in her office. So I creep in, very quietly, and suddenly appear.

  “Ling, how did you get up on the printer? I didn’t hear you come in.” I jump from place to place while she watches me in amazement until she goes back to her drudgery.

  M had a birthday a week ago. I know because she told me so. When is my birthday, I wonder? Will I get cards? All her birthday cards are standing on the shelf above her computer. I can’t count, but there are lots and lots, set up sideways so she can see a little bit of each card. Do you know about “the domino effect?” Now both M and I know. What fun!

  Mewsings

  Every day there are drudgery jobs.

  Doing things differently breaks the monotony.

  Short breaks help.

  Laughter is great medicine.

  Even better than laughter is having a friend to laugh with

  and keep you company as you work.

  DISCOVERING PLACES TO HIDE

  “Ling, where are you?”

  M never knows where to find me. I don’t answer her, and she keeps looking. I can be above her eye level, below it, or anywhere in between. I keep very still. She goes to the next room and continues the search. Sometimes she gives up, unless we are going to see the vet. In that case, I can tell she is getting nervous and I saunter out, as if I have been right in front of her eyes all the time.

  “Where have you been?”

  Surely she does not expect me to tell her?

  I like to hide behind closed doors. The kitchen pantry is a wonderful place to explore: around the paper bags on the floor, and one shelf above another to climb. But there is no light when M closes the door. I keep bumping into things. One time, I got stuck in there for a long, long time. When M found me, I raced out and passed her in a flash, almost knocking her down. No more hiding in the pantry, at least for a while.

  Behind one door in the kitchen are shelves that move around. I have to be very quick to get in there when M is not looking. She returns, and the shelf starts to go round and round. I steady myself and get a great ride, until M sees me. “Ling, get out of there,” and the fun is over, at least until the next ride.

  I have explored every bit of M’s office. I jump up on the table beside her, then in front of the computer screen, up onto the printer, onto the shelves around the computer, around the phone and lamp, on top of the file on the other side of M, next on the fax machine, then I jump high onto a four-drawer file, and finally retrace my path. Did you follow all that?

  It was on one of these trips that I found a hiding shelf on the computer itself in the back, where M cannot see me. I love this hiding place. I go there almost every day. It is warm, and the computer purrs. Do you suppose M knows I am there?

  Mewsings

  Everyone needs private places to explore and hide.

  Find a cluttered closet. Shut your eyes and open the door.

  Identify objects by touch and smell.

  Slip behind a drapery or shower curtain and listen to be called.

  Explore your home from ground level and discover places to hide.

  We are never too old to have these kinds of experiences.

  OBSERVING PEOPLE EXERCISE

  I would not miss M’s daily exercise time for anything. It is my opportunity to divert her attention and get in her way. Maybe M should call it her “Develop Patience Time.” She has been for a walk, and I guess she is tired. She stretches out on the floor and puts her neck in a thing that pumps up, and it stretches her neck. It looks like torture to me, but she seems to relax, while she listens to music. I circle round and round her. I sniff at her face and guess from her breath what she had for her early breakfast. (Nothing appetizing, that’s for sure.) Next, I walk up and down her body, while M protects her tummy and chest. She says I am too heavy and it hurts in those places.

  A buzzer goes off and M starts the real stuff. She turns on the TV, then gets on a machine and does what the woman on the screen is doing. How boring! I ride on the machine when it moves. I’m always ready for a free ride.

  You would not believe what M does next! She gets this big, big ball, much bigger than I am, and bigger than M is, if she were curled up inside it. She does crazy things with the ball. She sits on it and somehow walks her feet until her head is on the ball, her feet are on the floor and her body is flat. Another time, she may lift the ball between her feet while only her bottom is on the floor. Even though I have seen these routines countless times, I watch in amazement. Last thing, M collapses on the floor and says she feels wonderful.

  Yes, you get the picture. I watch, while M does her exercises. Her exercises look like work to me, and I avoid work. Get this straight, I am in favor of work-type exercise, as long as someone else is doing it and I can watch.

  Mewsings

  Exercise is very important to people.

  They have many ways to exercise.

  Exercise is more enjoyable if people listen to music.

  Exercise requires work and dedication.

  After people exercise they feel good.

  Just watching people exercise does not do much for our bodies.

  LAUGHING AT M

  I think M is funny, even strange at times. Take this morning, for example. She gets the rolled-up paper from outside and spreads it on the counter in my Kitchen Watch Patrol place. I decide to try one more time to read it. What does M do, instead of lifting me off? She spreads out parts of the paper, parts she does not read, on the floor. Now what does she do? Has she flipped? She takes some of my balls that make a tinkling noise, lifts a corner of the paper, and hides a ball underneath each piece of paper. Next, she wiggles the paper with her foot and bangs on top with her toe until the ball makes a noise. If only she could see herself! If only I could laugh at her, as she does at me. Does she really think I am going to stoop so low as to act like her? I stay on the paper, on the counter, until she lifts me off. I know when I am not wanted. I head for the porch, laughing to myself as I go.

  Where are the birds and squirrels this morning? They must be sleeping in. I wish I were. I might as well continue to check out what is on M’s schedule for the day. I saunter back into the kitchen, like Mister Cool Cat. You won’t believe what I see. She has her head—yes, I said her head—in the sink under the spout where the water comes out. Whenever I have tried to drink water there I am told that is one of my no-no’s. Funny M comes up for air, puts something on her head from a bottle, and goes down again! Can she swim? Then she turns off the water, grabs a towel, and begins to dry her hair. Does that make any sense at all? First she wets her hair, and then she dries it. Can you beat that?

  “Ling, why are y
ou looking at me like that?”

  I try to wipe off the smile that must be on my face.

  Mewsings

  It is not polite to laugh at others, unless they are laughing first.

  It is always possible to laugh inside, however.

  Go to a private spot and laugh aloud at what was funny.

  Find more funny things to laugh about and smile all day long.

  SAYING “I’M SORRY”

  I wonder if M can read my mind. If so, she must know that I am sorry for laughing at her actions yesterday morning. You will remember that she put three big pieces of reading on the floor, with one of my balls that tinkle under each. The kitchen floor was mostly covered. Then she wiggled one piece of paper with her toe to make the ball ring. As I think back, she did look funny. My mouth does not turn up at the sides like M’s does when she laughs. But I could feel my whiskers twinge and my eyes half close as M did her twinkle-toes routine. I confess, yesterday I thought she was just trying to get me off her reading on the counter.

  The kitchen still looks as if someone has trashed it. Maybe I should help clean it up. By mistake, I slide into one of the pieces of paper and hear a ball ring. I will get it! It is easier said than done. I am chasing it around, under the big piece, banging it, pouncing on it with all four feet. Sliding! What fun! Finally, I chase the ball from under cover and I collapse. “Great shot, Ling!” While I was concentrating on the task at hand, M has come into the kitchen.

  No resting. I have two more balls to find. These are easier, now that I have the hang of it. But it is just as much fun because I pounce longer before I let the ball come out. I am exhausted and stretch out to rest. M knows a good activity when she sees it. She begins lifting corners and putting the balls under the reading pieces again. I don’t want her to feel too successful with her new game, so I wait until she has gone to the office. I make up a game of my own. How fast can I get the balls out from under cover?

  I can understand why I laughed at M yesterday. I keep remembering her twinkle-toes demonstration. My first reaction, that her creative game was no fun, was wrong.

  Today I’ve discovered I want to play her game again and again. “M, I apologize for walking away from the game and from you. Fix another game, and I promise to give it a try.”

  Mewsings

  It is difficult to say “I’m sorry.”

  Let’s think about why that is true.

  First we have to admit that we were wrong, and that can be hard to do.

  The next step is to tell ourselves that we forgive ourselves.

  Then we are free to say “I’m sorry”

  to the person we hurt or misjudged.

  There is one more step. We are to be more careful next time, and the next.

  LISTENING TO M

  “Sorry I’m crying,” M says, as I feel drops of water wet my fur. She is holding me close, not in the usual way, and I know something is wrong. She is cradling me, and I can see her face. I look up and check for myself that she is crying. When I try to cry, I can’t make it work.

  M is unhappy, and I don’t like to see her this way. How do I make her happy again? I reach up with my paw and try to touch her face. It works! A weak smile begins to come out from behind her tears, and she says, “Ling, you are a dear.” She sniffles, reaches for a paper from a box, blows her nose, and begins to talk with me, as if I were a human friend.

  “I don’t expect you to understand.” She is right on that one. “Once I had a husband, a man who would have loved you as much as you would have loved him. He was tall and thin, but strong, and he would have picked you up, as Son Number Three does. He was great at playing ball. He could pitch straight. You would have chased his balls and knocked them back to him. He loved to read, even more than I do. He would have welcomed you on his lap, and petted you as he read. His laughter was like a chuckle, deep in his tummy. He would have laughed at the funny things you do. He liked to hold me and tell me he loved me.”

  She reached for another paper from the box. “He got sick and could not get well, and he died. I don’t expect you to understand. He went away, like I did one time from you, but he could not come back. I came back, remember?”

  By this time I am beginning to squirm. I have never heard M talk to me on and on like this. I hope she finishes soon. I am hungry, and I need to go to the litter box.

  “Thank you for listening, Ling. In the hallway there is a big picture of the two of us. I will lift you up and you can see us together. Try to understand that I miss him.”

  I do understand, a little. M is sometimes sad, and now I know why. Happy or sad, she is always glad I am here.

  Mewsings

  Sometimes it’s hard to understand why a person cries.

  Maybe we don’t have to understand why.

  Perhaps the best thing we can do is

  reach out,

  stand by

  and just listen.

  DOING THINGS DIFFERENTLY

  I hate ruts. You know what I mean. It’s doing the same thing in the same way at the same time every day. That is so boring. It’s okay for old cats. But I consider myself young, and I like some spice in my life. Take today, for example. Usually I jump out of bed when the music comes out of the box, and pester M wherever she goes, with my “Eat, eat, eat!” But this morning I choose to ignore my hunger pains and I snuggle up to M and she has no choice but to pet me. She whispers in my ear, “Ling, this is a lovely way to greet the day.” On second thought, I might make this a habit.

  Today, when I am on the porch, I discover that I can push the seat cushion off M’s big as-life rattan horse, and onto the floor. The floor is hard, but not when I can take my nap on the soft cushion I have just knocked off. Now I do not have to worry about falling off the horse when I dream. I remember the day I did just that, making that day really different. It was a long way to the floor, especially when I had been half asleep and rolled off the cushion by mistake! I’m leaving the horse’s cushion on the floor, but I bet M puts it back up soon. She calls it “tidying up.” I call it doing things differently.

  Later today, I am upset at M. She slipped out of the house to walk; I didn’t see her leave the house or hear the key in the lock. She hadn’t fed me my late afternoon meal.

  That is a different behavior on her part—that is not allowed. I wait until she comes home and then do a no-no on the dining-room rug, right in front of her. I had stopped doing that a long time ago, but I just needed to show her who is boss around here. Food is to be delivered when it is due.

  M gently scoops me up in her arms, holding my back legs together so I can’t struggle. She carries me to the litter box and carefully drops me in it. I feel guilty, so I do a big job there, just to please her. As I jump out, she does her “Good boy, good boy, Ling” routine.

  Mewsings

  Doing things differently takes courage and experimentation.

  If doing things differently does not harm others, or us, it feels good.

  It is important to check the possibility of negative consequences,

  before we change behavior.

  Maybe doing things differently just to get even is not a good thing.

  TURNING ON MY MOTOR

  You might call it purring, but M insists it is a motor she hears running.

  “There’s a slight rattle in your motor, Ling. Maybe it needs to be oiled.”

  I know there is nothing wrong with my motor, and M knows there is nothing wrong with my motor, but what she calls a rattle identifies me. I am unique. She says other cats do not rattle when they purr. I don’t care what they do. I’m perfectly happy with the sound my motor makes.

  I try to turn on my motor. I listen. It’s not working. I try again. Same thing. No startup. Dead motor. I must face the truth that I have no control over my motor. It turns itself on, and then I hear it. I realize I have control of everything in my body except turning on my motor. I control when I eat and how much. Do I want a drink of water after I eat, or later? It’s my decision. I
choose play time and sleep time. Do I ignore M’s invitations? If I want to change my mind about something, I change my mind. It’s as simple as that. But, if I tell my motor to start running, it is stubborn and does not turn on.

  The real question is, when does my motor turn itself on?

  My favorite place to nap is in the sunshine. I jump on the bed, choosing a time when the sun covers the whole bed, and I know the sun will be with me for a long time. I curl up, contented, expecting my motor to tune into my mood. It does not.

  I feel the bed move under me, and I realize that M just sat down by my side. I do not open my eyes, and she does not know I am awake. My motor knows, and it turns on!

  Sometimes M holds me close for a long time, pets me slowly and gently, and whispers into my ear. In the other ear, I hear my motor start up. I have discovered the secret. M and I have to be very close to each other, in perfect harmony, and then it happens, all by itself.

  Mewsings

  There are persons in our lives who turn on our motors.

  If there are not, we need to find at least one.

  We are responsible for setting the stage for motor-running.

  We are not in control of the motor starting.

  We just cuddle up and enjoy the sound.

  KNOWING I’M NOT WANTED

  “Ling, I’m having a friend in for tea and cookies by the fire this afternoon.” Great! I’m thinking of all the attention I will get. M’s friends always make comments like, “Isn’t he a beautiful cat!” They say, “So friendly,” as I jump on their laps and wait to be stroked.