My intent was to write about the haze, clouds and fog that seem to be permanent additions to my little corner of the world. I had the occasion to be oot and aboot yesterday for a couple of hours as night was falling - earlier than usual on the shortest day of the year - and had to deal with the thickening fog, descending darkness and reduced visibility. Most drivers were somewhat cognizant of the need for slower driving so maneuvering about was really not an issue. What was an issue was the dampness that seemed to creep into every bone, joint and muscle, with an intensity and determination to remain that was impressive. Hours later, when I finally gave up on accomplishing one more thing and went to bed, my body-chill was still present and did not leave willingly nor quickly, even under the warmth of the covers. The dawn of a new day has done little to banish the bone-numbing chill and, once again, I've succumbed to the cold and raised the thermostat from sixty-five degrees to a heat-wave-producing sixty-six degrees. Global warming has come to the condo!
Yes, I was going to write all about that, but, as I was seated at my desk, peering into the abyss of my laptop's screen, I felt a presence in the room. I heard no sound but the presence of another was eerily unmistakable. I looked up at the doorway, but saw no one. I strained to hear a noise.....anything that would indicate company nearby. I swiveled in my chair......nothing. Yet, I could feel that I was not alone. Suddenly, for some reason, I was compelled to look down and there was my answer. Two yellow eyes, looking up, boring into mine with an intensity that cannot be described.
It was Cranky Kitty, poised at my feet, lurking about. As our eyes held, as if in a blinking contest, she remained still. I reached down to pet her, naturally hoping that this would not be a moment when she would chose to nip. She allowed me to scratch her head and chin, eyes still gazing into mine. I wondered what she wanted or was thinking about. She and I maintained our eye contact for another thirty seconds or so and then she moved away, tail held high and swishing rapidly. She then moved to an adjoining bathroom where she proceeded to scratch away at the shower curtain. I should begin referring to her as Enigma Kitty, or EK, for short.
It was (and still is) amazing how I could feel her eyes. She didn't have to make a sound, yet I knew I was not alone in the room. I guess, in the end, that there is a connection in what I have written today. Carl Sandburg, the great American poet (1878-1967), knew about the correlation between fog and little cat feet when he wrote the poem entitled, simply, "Fog".
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over the harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
Carl must have had a cat somewhere in his life.
Ancora imparo
