Catastrophic, on a Very Small Scale

Inspirational song: Under My Thumb (Rolling Stones)

It's day two, and I made it out of bed at a reasonable time, despite almost no sleep last night. (It's probably because the dogs would pee on the rug in a heartbeat if I didn't get up when they tell me to, but I'm going to go with "I have great discipline, and wanted to walk and write, as is my new habit.")

The walk was a series of highs and lows, one of the lows truly horrifying. I was in the home stretch and a squirrel was run over ten feet away from me. There was nothing I could have done, but she did not die instantly, and she flopped herself toward the curb spastically. I was suddenly in seventh grade again, seeing my second cat ever run over in front of my house in Oklahoma, in her death throes, until my teenage brother came out with a shotgun to end her agony. Yes, I have been annoyed at squirrels who dance across my roof, or gain unauthorized access to my attic. But secretly, I cheer for them and don't mind too much when they empty the bird feeders. It's why I tap on the glass and make noise with the door handle before I let the red-headed dog out. I want the squirrels to get a head start before he comes flying out in hot pursuit. I would be so angry with him if he ever caught one.

I have come to accept that one of my cats is a feline activist, fighting for liberation from the oppressive collars that are a symbol of their domesticity. Me, I just wanted my phone number on them in case they wander the neighborhood. (This has come in handy with the little old man cat who is deaf, and who takes off anytime he finds a weakness in our perimeter defenses.) But to the boy, collars will not be tolerated. It used to be that he just removed his own and spat it at my feet emphatically. Then he took to removing others. I find them all over the house. Last night, he kept waking me by wrestling with the old man cat, chasing him around the bed. I took off the old man's collar for him, hoping it would allow me to sleep, finally. But the boy spent another 20 minutes attacking the collar itself, for spite, maybe. I had to hide it to get any peace. Vive la revolucion.