They left me in the morning to sleep. No matter.
I move to the foot of the bed.
Stretch in the morning sun.
Lounge atop the living room couch.
Perch on the shelf.
Stroll past the window to keep my mind engaged and the animals on alert.
Nap in the study.
Temperatures drop, and the light fades. Dark. These hints of fall confuse me.
The wind is a fascination. I want to venture, and at the same time, prefer to stay within. A conundrum.
The absence of my people is noticeable; close to annoying. How will sleep come? Do they expect me to sleep without their bodies to disturb?
I sit. Howl.
They do not come. How rude.
I shall not look at them when they return.
I whine and paw the door. Insistently.
They do not appear.
I am unnerved.
I find a box. Its four walls bring comfort abating my anxiety.
There are many small moments in a cat’s life. They are fleeting but dramatic. Thank you, Two Writing Teachers for a place to write about our many lives. Read more slices here.