Have you ever left your house, in the morning, for work, worried about your cat?
She did not race to her food dish.
She did not follow me to the bathroom.
I found her, curled up in a chair, with an obvious problem.
After stepping in it, in my early morning haze, I realized that the dear Puff Daddy was sick.
Consoling her was not an option.
Her tail twerked back and forth, as if to say, “Touch, me, Wolfy, and I attack you.”
I tied to ease her pain, putting out fresh food and water, but she did not respond.
It came to me in a brilliant flash of genius: She doesn’t feel well, She will heal herself, if she can, and she is not going to be receptive to her invasion of privacy.
All day long: Worried.
Home tonight, after work.
I noticed her food and water dishes were empty.
I filled them up and hoped for the best.
She is sleeping now.
I hope she will survive the night.
It’s been said that cats have 9 lives.
This one has had at least 50 lives, and she is still going strong: The cat with a hole in her heart.
She is curled up on a soft blanket trying to sleep.
I am going to leave her alone.
If she needs me, she will let me know.
We have this crazy bond: She is the queen and I am her servant.
We need each other, but we need our space.
Good night, P Daddy.
I hope you and I will wake up tomorrow, to experience another day of enablement.
Just one question: Who is the enabler?