Cats...

And there she was. The bunny had not seen her. I had not seen her. And yet, there she was. I had sensed her, in that terrifying, something is coming up from behind me way, and so I turned and there she was.

I had to admire her, for she sat there as if this was the most natural thing in the world to do. Actually, it is if you are a cat, and particularly if you are a deaf cat. She is fearless because she does not have as much to fear. It is amazing what we can be oblivious of when we cannot hear, or smell, or see, or touch.

So I went for the camera, hoping that she would have the decency to stay until I returned. She did. And so I took several photographs of the small white cat.

She continued to look at me, as if sensing my inability to be with her, and that it was merely my shortcoming and not her's in any way. And she was right.

She lived next door, and would come visit me in the garage as I worked on my carpentry or furniture projects. She was unafraid of the tools, as she could not hear them. So she would perch on the top of the work bench, or perhaps move to the shelves, all so that she could have a better view of what I was doing.

It is un-nerving having a pure white cat stare at you while you used a saw, blade whirring at 14,000 rpm, and she seemed so...disappointed. Perhaps karma had led her to me, as she was a famous woodworked in the distant past. Or not.

And so there she sat, on the very peak of the roof of the garage. Fearless, alone, and quite happy I think!

I enjoyed her visits, even when I had to rescue her from all to frequent attempts at playing with power tools larger than herself.

She is gone now. Hopefully she went with the neighbors when they moved. She was a good cat, as cats go. Quite, yet friendly. Respectful, yet attentive. A decent cat, the kind that you don't mind having in the wood shop on a November day, to share in the moment, and not judge but simply enjoy being there with you.

Perhaps, this is the key to cats. In Japanese, the word shibumi means understated dignity. The little white cat was surely the finest example of that. Perhaps someday I will find such dignity, even if I have to climb up on the roof.

M

Traveling...

San Francisco, Los Alamos and then San Nicolas Island. The bunny and I have been everywhere in the last two and one-half weeks. The bunny is not tired, but I am.

I was robbed of an opportunity to see our dear friend generic, who lives in SF, because some of the same manager-types that SSM ranted about recently also seem to work where I work, which is where SSM worked before he didn't, and now works at a similar but not same work as I.

The bunny seems more restless this evening, probably just trying to get more settled back into the world here rather than there, which is where we were when we were not here.

SSM and lecram have tried to convince me that blogging is a daily thing, like poo and sex, which in fact are no longer daily occurences. As such, I will try to write more regularly.

I was tasked with writing about Writer Boy. Or perhaps it is Rider Boy, or Ryder Boy. Or maybe even Wrider Boi? Regardless (twice), this must wait for a more lucid moment.

M