When my husband is home, our cat, Sydney idolizes him, showering him with all of her attention. When he is away, I often wake up with our little rescue cat sleeping on my thighs. The weight of her on my legs, and the extremely gentle reverberations of her purring is a most comforting feeling.
Those first few moments feel secure and safe and I’m often in awe of how it is she managed to place herself so intimately without me becoming aware of her presence.
The moment Sydney realizes I’m awake however, changes everything. Her sweet, invisible presence morphs into something highly annoying. She stands, walks over my belly making figure-8s on my bladder, and wanders up and down my chest. Somehow she manages to put each of her nine pounds on individual paws as she pointedly stakes them into my legs. There is no denying her. She wants something–attention, breakfast, more attention. She insists with playful somersaults over my legs, and the occasional head-bump into my hand. She meows plaintively.
Rest? Forget about it. The little beast.
Most often, I get up to feed her. Sometimes though, like today, I choose to ignore her and attempt to roll over and feign sleep. I refuse to acknowledge her, but she is sly, and will find another way. She will retaliate by chewing something–like any electrical cable she can find. So far, I’ve replaced two phone chargers, and my computer cable is currently sporting a black electrical tape sheath.
Ah, life with cats. I love her, she touches my heart and lets me cry and today, I realized she is teaching me life lessons, yet again.
I’ve been struggling with something these past weeks, trying as I often do, to delay dealing with a recurring issue. While I have been somewhat successful in letting it lie dormant beside me, there have been too many times when the Thing has forced its presence upon me, poking me, irritating me…even taunting me at times.
I’ve tried to ignore it, and while there have been moments of having placated it, the truth is, it sometimes still has more power than it deserves. There is no one else who can deal with it but me and so, I realize anew, I must once again do the hard work. Yes, I’ve dealt with layers but now it seems there are more. It doesn’t matter if that annoys me. Clearly, until I do my part, this beast will not let me rest.
If I hadn’t ignored Sydney this morning, if I had simply gotten up to feed her and then crawled back into bed, I could have been resting again in moments. Sydney would curl up in another room, content to leave me be. Perhaps her gentler, unobtrusive, comforting cat-self may have joined me for a while.
I am the one who let her be otherwise, who encouraged her intrusiveness instead. I suspect it’s much the same with my issue.
Alright then. Time for breakfast.