Vivaldi and my cat

When someone told my son that his violin strings were comprised of cat gut, he was horrified because he adores his 'little brother.' Our cat, of course, was more upset. A little research proved that cat gut was never used for instruments; it was cattle gut, shortened to 'catgut.'

Which got me thinking about all the misinformation out there. Cats are solitary creatures; nope, our cat is family oriented. He actually complains when we return home after a trip. The length of his meowing (which I interpret as 'How could you do this to me?') corresponds to the length of our time away from him.

Cats love cream; nope again. My son marvels that the cat eats the same hard, dry food, day in and day out. I always say he is the easiest member of the family to feed.

Our cat loves music and always listens in when my son is practicing. When he was a kitten, he used to curl into the empty violin case. Now that he is of a certain girth (he would never make it in Hollywood), he just hangs out. I'm sure he stiffens at the wrong notes and purrs at the right ones, but he never shows it; he just sits, watching, listening.

He stays the entire time, fifteen minutes, one hour, two hours, it doesn't matter. His still presence is an amazing thing to behold. I marvel at that same still patience when he sits outside the back door, waiting for someone to open it. I know he believes himself the king of this household, but of course a king's entourage would ensure that said king never waited for anything. Yes, we are devoted to our cat, but he has to wait, who knows for how long, until someone sees that he wants in.

I try hard to be patient like him. Patient with my children, patient with red lights when I am in a rush, patient when my words don't flow and my fingers freeze above the keyboard.

Perhaps the term "writer's block" is wrong, misinformation, as it were; perhaps all one needs is patience. With a purr.