tadashige-nishid
Today I'm stumped. Somebody put out a Siamese kitten at my house today while I was napping. It is weaning age, leading me to believe it might be the one in the litter its people couldn't find a home for, leading them to drop it off where they figured: that guy likes cats. Caterpillar hates it. She hisses at it. The hair on Caterpillar's brow is sticking straight out, the cat version of a furrowed brow. Caterpillar is on the footstool sulking. The kitten is on my shoulder purring. I'd forgotten Siamese purr all the time. I feel awfully drawn to this cat. It is as darling as baby Vada. Sometimes I feel like I need something young at home to get my mind off old age. Caterpillar is 15 and I'm 70. I want to get rid of the kitten for Caterpillar's sake. Her opinion of the matter is known. My opinion I know too. I want to keep the kitten. But I don't want to alienate Caterpillar. She didn't even like her own siblings. She is a solitary cat. If somebody reading this in the county would like to have a really cute kitten that knows about houses and people. It's not a feral cat. It was put out right here because it was not dirty and wet from travels on a wet day. I was wondering about it being a neighbor's kitten, but it didn't walk far enough to be from a neighbor's house. I'm grateful somebody thought enough of me to give me their kitten.
Odd timing. Yesterday at a dental appointment, dentist told me that smoking cigarettes shortens one's life by thirteen or fourteen years. I've known very few past 80 who are ever comfortable with their body and mind. I'm not one to want to grow old. I live by myself. After a certain point, one becomes dependent and needs help. I don't care if smoking shortened my life. Shortened it from what? is my next question. If I die at 75, does that mean my healthy lifespan would have been 88 or 89. That high in the eighties does not appeal to me. Jr Maxwell lived to 87. Sitting in the house looking out the window all day. It was still a good life for him. It was continuum. He was in no hurry to leave. I am in no hurry to leave. Yet, at the same, time I don't care if it's just a week from now. Every time I go see Dr for a checkup, I come home feeling mortal, like I'm going to die any minute. Five years ago he told me I had 2 years max. How can I care? Passing through the tunnel of light led by angels can't be all that bad. I don't think it will matter to me if I don't finish the painting I'm working on.
Yesterday and today I have in my head that feeling of mortality after seeing a health care professional, like I'm the same as dead. Dr says I'm in overdraft and dentist tells me I've condemned myself to 13-14 years less than I might have lived had I never committed to sin and smoked cigarettes. Sin did me in. Because of sin I'm mortal. Or maybe because of duality and illusion. I can't help but think it might be a good thing to have a youngster in the house, a baby with vibrant energy. One thing for sure, in the morning I'm taking kitten to the vet for checkup. It's loaded with fleas. I may pay for shots and leave it with them in the kitten cage. This cat is so beautiful it will find a human easily. I really don't want to make Caterpillar uncomfortable in her own home where she was born. This is her home even more than it is mine. I've lived half my life here; she's lived all her life here. Plus, the dog that killed TarBaby walks by on the road almost every day. I'll probably leave kitten at the vet's. Caterpillar is so out of sorts, I don't want to make her latter years uncomfortable.
What a complexity of feelings. I think of the baby taken from its mother today and I want to give it the feeling of safety in its lost state. I want to ease its fear of the unfamiliar. I really want to keep it for myself, but Caterpillar is first consideration. She doesn't do anything besides growl and hiss. She makes no effort to attack the kitten or to leave and go outside under the house. She has not left her place on the footstool. If I do decide to keep the kitten, it will be this way a year from now, Caterpillar growling and hissing at the kitten. There was a time I found a cat with a broken back. I brought it home and put it in the cat carrier to take to the vet next day to put it down. Caterpillar growled and hissed with the cat in the cage. She's a little bit of an ill-natured cat, a Maine Coon. They are odd natured cats, but have their own charm. Even though I know better than to take in a young pet in my last years to grieve losing me and need a new home. I feel a longing for some youthful energy in the house. It has been my way to take in the animals that have come to me by one way or another. This one turned up at the door. It worries me too that if it is Tapo or TarBaby in a new body finding the way back to me, I can't turn away.
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