sofia likes her new window seat
Sofia took to her window seat the moment she stepped into it. The cushion is a foam rubber just right for a cat. She curled up in it and took a nap. It has become her favorite place. She can look onto the donkey meadow and see the donkeys. The view out this window is different from the view out the other windows. She could see me through them when I arrived home and when I left. First day with the window seat I walked in the door while she was napping. She jumped up hearing the door open. The surprise on her face was true bewilderment. She did not see me through the window. I don't recall ever seeing a cat so surprised. She was unaware this window gave no access to seeing me approach the door. I throw seeds on the ground outside new window for chipmunks and squirrels now. Cat tv. I'm making places for her at the windows. The window seat is above the kerosene monitor that exhausts outside, the warmest place in the house during winter. Sun shines through the window in the mornings and the moon at night. Good place for a cat.
sofia grooms her fur in the window
In town today I picked up a 12x14 mirror to put on the wall beside a place she likes to curl up on top of a bookshelf. She feels comfortable seeing herself in a mirror. The window at night makes a black mirror she can see herself in. It's not like vanity for her. I see her glance at herself with calm in her eyes, recognition it is herself, her imaginary playmate. Though I say it is not vanity, cats are vain about how they look. So are dogs and donkeys, all the birds. Every animal I've known has been particular about appearance. Sophia does not pose in front of a mirror. She glances at herself to see if she's looking good and looks at her eyes; I see you. Satisfied she passed inspection, she looks away and shows no more interest. I like the bumper around the edge of the window seat. It will prevent her rolling off it in her sleep and it makes a cushion for her to curl up against. Her energy is perking me up. The house has a lively spirit leaping and running about.
Cat is in the window looking at birds, squirrels and falling leaves. I glanced out the window and saw Jack with a bird on his back. It looked like a titmouse. It flew over to Jenny's back. The windows are ideal cat tv, no commercials, public television for cats. She just now saw a squirrel on a tree trunk and leapt from the desk to a wooden bench under one of the windows, slid to the glass and scrunched up like an accordion when her nose touched the glass. This one is a young gray squirrel. It nibbles sunflower seeds and Sofia sits at the glass, full attention on the squirrel, drawn by catness in her soul to jump at it and chase it. She has a deep longing to be outside, which I cannot permit. Dogs the reason number one, including coyotes, and number two the road nearby with heedless drivers going up the hill in a hurry and down the hill in a hurry. Summer weekends I feel like I live on a racetrack, a race going both directions at once. As each generation is less respectful of others and the rights of others, it's hard to tell if television imitates social trends or social trends imitate tv. The increasing passion for killing on tv suggests to me a parallel of diminishing respect for others in the tv viewing audience.
the sponge and the string
eyes of sofia
The giant in the house makes a sedentary playmate for a leaping, twirling kitten. I sit still, use hand and fingers to make the string jump. Attention is what she needs most of all. I give her attention by assisting her play as well as looking at her and talking to her. One of our games I can play sitting at the desk, fingers pecking the keyboard, is to lower my head far enough she can't see my eyes for the back of the chair. I'll raise my head, she'll see my eyes and jump toward me, hop into the air, twist around, land facing the other direction, dart over the chair and footstool and leap to the pile of packaging paper on the floor that came with the window seat. Free cat toy inside. She'll hop around on it, roll on it, act like a mouse is hidden inside that she's on the verge of catching. I raise my head until she sees my eyes, slowly lower my head until my eyes go out of sight, then raise them enough for her to see. Her eyes spring wide open and her legs into motion. She runs up to me, looks into my eyes, turns, runs and leaps onto the mound of paper, turns around and looks at me saying, Do it again.
a grumpy old bastard lives there
people that know him say he's cool
but I've never seen it