A Library of Cats.....

Many, many, years ago, I recall someone getting over a heartbreak by reading Edna St. Vincent Millay. Then there's this friend who rereads Barbara Cartland anytime something untoward happens. Why? Because Cartland creates a world where everything works out on the final pages and because that world, having been read so often, is completely familiar. The Millay reader just wanted to know that love, too, works out in the end, no matter the pain on the road to said love.
Then I know people who reach for their cats when all feels lost. Yes, cats, not dogs, because these are cat people. Cats, they claim, calm them. Cats curl up beside them and purr. Cats make them feel better. Cats also force them to keep going because they have to feed the cat, clean the litter box, etc etc etc a la "The King and I"....
How I wish I could reach for either a library of books or a library of cats as I struggle with this book I am trying to write. The characters slip away, a la Kitty O when he is not in the mood to be petted. The words won't come, a la Kitty O when I call him and he would rather stay outside.
Am I doomed? I sure hope not. I will keep trying, like the Millay reader who believed that despite the copious tears, true love waited at the end of the road. I hope my words will come so I can shape characters who will then shape the plot.
Meanwhile, Kitty O has, on occasion, stretched out beside me, purring. I think he knows I need the base sound of that purr as I try and make sense of the muddle in my head.
For those of you who are still reading and want to read my first mystery, you will find "The Girl Who Went Missing" on Goodreads and Amazon.