The cats made me run an errand for them tonight. I have been transitioning to giving them canned food every night for dinner, as the vet insisted I should be doing. I had the unmitigated audacity to run out of cans yesterday, and after I gave them only dry food tonight, they all lined up on the kitchen counter and stared at me like grand inquisitors intimidating a heretic. So I hastily got myself presentable, made sure the Voice would record in my absence, and obeyed the dictates of the Council. Nothing says Crazy Cat Lady like a cart full of single-person quantities of meat, ice cream, and veggies, plus a dozen cans of cat food. It didn't help that I was wearing what an old friend termed "looking for love" clothes (this time cat-fur-coated jeans and a ratty tank top) and had no makeup and barely brushed hair. The only thing that was missing that would have completed the persona was that I refrained from talking to myself out loud in the grocery store. I was forgiven when I returned with the correct offerings. For not speaking a single word of English, the Pride certainly knows how to tell me exactly what they want.
I used to get embarrassed when I'd overhear people talking to themselves. I felt like it was something to be ashamed of, and I was intruding on a very private moment if I walked in on someone speaking in an empty space. I remember being oddly uncomfortable watching the movie Shirley Valentine in my young adulthood, with the title character speaking directly to the camera and proudly explaining how her best conversations are with cupboards and doors. Yet here I am, approaching the age that actress was when she made that movie (I'd have to check to know how close), and having meaningful conversations with cats, dogs, squirrels, birds, lizards, roses... And at no point am I feeling self conscious about it. I have a lot to say, and living alone has made me quite desperate to get to speak to someone, or at this point, something. When I go visit the kids or go out with my friends, I find myself unable to be a good listener, because I've been unable to speak to a human audience for so long. I interrupt, I ramble, I rhapsodize, I rant. I can't help it. And don't think I'm not aware that I'm doing the exact same thing with a computer keyboard at this very moment.
I have a busy day tomorrow, and I need to find a way to compensate for that rare second cup of coffee that I had at lunchtime, and go to sleep early. If midnight can be considered early--It is for me anymore. Staying asleep is a trick these days too. The white cat, who knows she is my favorite, has been extra needy the last few nights. Normally she sleeps curled up against my rib cage, but lately she has been tucking herself right up on my pillow, putting her paws against my hands when I'm on my side, and leaning her nose in to touch mine as we sleep. Unfortunately, she keeps forgetting that she has whiskers that tickle my face and wake me up from what fitful sleep I can find. She wants my attention so badly that I feel guilty even rolling over to find a cooler spot in the sheets. I understand needing the attention. I need it too. Just not when I'm asleep.
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