Meditative Practices in Cat Wrangling

Yesterday, +/- 1500:

Bologna in hand to coax The Uncoaxcable from under the back porch that’s technically the front but when my parents built the house they had some weird notion of putting the front porch in the back (“For the view”); thirty years on, it still doesn’t compute.

Here Kitty, Here Kitty / Hiss, spit, claw: The Uncoaxable venturing deeper into the depths of the porch, the deck, the varmint (finally got to use that word) pagoda, trails of bologna and frisky treats and profanity ignored culminating in a doomed effort to crawl into the varmint pagoda myself where, though I failed to coax The Uncoaxable, I did find the bogarted water dish, stupid raccoon. 

Emergent, spitting straw and dirt, a flash of inspiration: go Costanza, do the opposite of what you’re doing. Remember The Uncoaxable’s fascination with your meditation practice. Use it.

Turning away, sitting and focusing on my breath (and the fallen tree atop the old shed I have yet to figure out how best to remove without damaging everything else): the padding of kitty feet over fallen leaves. 

A few minutes later, an orange and white head emergent; my quiet steps. The approach, the flop, the pickup: You’re ready to go inside, aren’t you?

Meow.

Earworm: “Because the Night,” Patti Smith Group.