Violet’s Past Life
I’ve held off as long as possible from dragging out the kitty pictures like the proud woman I am of our Ms. Violet. Watching her manage me and her indoor-only world, I can imagine her in another Shirley MacLaine-like lifetime as a lovely southern lady. I see her relaxing on the veranda, it’s a hot summer day like this one, drinking a mint julep, and taking in the smell of gardenias.
In This Life
In this life, Violet is none of this. She is, as my mother used to say about herself, “a woman of the 90s” and likes it that way. She’s in a two-parent family—my daughter and I share her—answering to her needs and preferences as only people can love a cat. “Good job kitty” is applied to her daily habits as well as jumping down from the counter when visitors are present. I could amuse myself and possibly you with the adorable things Violet does, but since she’s the subject of many photos, I’ll share a few here and let it go at that.
What brought me to this blog today was a fresh look at a morning ritual. Violet likes to get up early, so ipso facto, I do as well. We start our day—me with an espresso, Violet with a nibble of kibble, yes, on the counter. We head upstairs and begin activity number two: reading in bed—me; sleeping on my lap—Violet. It’s peaceful and suits both of us until the real day begins.
The Point of This Post
This morning, though, I had that recognition I’ve had before. We aren’t the same species, yet we have this intimacy and connection that bridges so many gaps. We fit together in spite of our genealogy—man and beast accommodating each other. Or, more accurately—dutiful, grateful woman and affectionate, trusting cat.
And one more thing I failed to mention. Violet has modeled for me how to be connected but maintain feline independence; to keep her own world in tact while traveling in mine. A good example for anyone.