I never realized just how much of an effort you have to put into not being that guy. You know the one. Always posting pictures of a meal, a child, a cat. Talking about sports teams or how incredibly good you feel once you go gluten free. I'm realizing just how tragically I fail at all of these levels, never resisting the impulse to over-share. But each of these things brings pleasure to our lives, and humans, in general, seem to want to share simple pleasures with the people they love, or absent that, the people they want to impress. I didn't know where I wanted to go with my writing when I started eighteen months ago, but I made the promise to myself that I would do this every day, even when my topics seemed interesting to no one but myself. I don't believe these things are interesting only to me. If everyone is putting up pictures of meals and cats, then I have to assume that at some level there is a universal appeal to these kinds of things.
I get stared at an awful lot by a large boy kitty whose green eyes tilt up at the corners, making me think he looks like a pretty Russian girl. Alfred is a cat of very few words, but the most expressive face in the whole Pride. He can be very persuasive when he wants something, and today his argument won me over. I had just let the dogs out, on a perfectly lovely afternoon, with cool, crisp air, low humidity, and clear skies. I closed the door, and looked down to see Alfred willing me to obey the look in his eyes. He spoke aloud that one word that nearly all cats can say in perfect English, "Out?" I nearly said no, but I had no true justification for doing that. I had been putting them off until the weather got nice, and how much nicer can it get than perfect? I opened the door wide, and went about my day. I got the usual sweetness from the Pride. They occasionally came in to check on me and tell me about how much fun they were having. Rabbit crawled all over me, making sure I noticed that she wasn't white, but was a filthy gray-brown. Athena chirped, jumped on my chest to tell me she was still playing, and then ran off to do it. The Minions strolled by a few times to make sure I was still cool with having the door open.
I walked out to stand in the sun a few minutes, and watch the frolicking. At the edge of the deck, I smelled a high, sweet, floral fragrance that seemed out of place on a cool autumn afternoon. I walked around until I found that the tea olive I planted along the fence had started to bloom again. It smelled amazing. Tea olives are quickly becoming my favorite shrub, beating out forsythias which bloom for so short a time, with little or no scent. And how is it I have lived with a magnolia tree for three years, and I didn't know that those big seed pods that develop from the flowers spit out bright red berries that look almost like pomegranate pips? Have I just always had my attention directed elsewhere in October?
Last night, after I got home from Bonfire, and stayed up just late enough to write, I went up to bed, ready to open a couple windows in the bedroom, so it would be nice and cold all night. The professional eater dog, whose ratty, hand-me-down folded-bedspread bed (that she loves) is directly under the window, seemed to be a little nervous about the whole open window thing. She sat up, pretending she was looking away when she was really watching me closely, holding a chew toy in her mouth like a pacifier, waiting to see what I was doing with the windows. Her pose was so sweet. I told her if it got too cold for her she could go snuggle with the little red-headed dog, but I think she was perfectly comfortable. In no time, she was back to her usual pose, sprawled on her side, snoring loudly like a fat little granny. I think she was just testing me to see whether I would put her picture up, like I do with all the cats. She won. I had to take that picture.
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