Tuesday, December 12, 2006
She wears a bell around her neck. She would be stealth and dangerous to birds without it because she doesn't meow like other cats I have known. Every morning, in the pre-dawn darkness, she enters our room with a jingle, jumps onto the bed, and tries to stir me by standing on me or approaching me head. I pet her a bit, or ignore her altogether. She leaves only to return a few minutes later. We repeat the same process. Again, she behaves like the snooze button on an alarm clock, trying time and time again to rouse me. She does this countless times each day until I finally do what she wants me to do, and get out of bed. This pattern has been repeating now long enough and predictably enough for me to notice. This is a working cat who knows my schedule. I am an early riser. It is in the quiet pre-dawn dakness that I am able to get my work done. It is the time that belongs to no one but me, and now, the orange tabby, Clarissa, who's occupation seems in part to be guiding me to my work. To own the hours that belong to me and make use of what is precious. In appreciation, I aknowledge her and others I am noticing more and more.