My Cat's Eyes

Lakota is persistent.

There is a bit of fallout from the pinched nerve episode. I can't sit normally in the recliner, still. You know, the first relax back position. Not all the way back; I'm talking when you hit the recliner and kick it back a notch.

If I sit like that long enough, there is discomfort. No pain. I have been pain free for weeks and I dig that. But there is this discomfort thing that persists in many situations.

It feels like something is going to snap in my neck and shoulder. It feels like I am about to return to pain.

So far the pain has not returned and I am dancing madly in gleeful gratefulness.

I have to kick the recliner back a notch and then ease it back a little more. Pull my knees up and support myself like that.

It is not uncomfortable but it doesn't leave a lot of room in my lap for Lakota.

She's a big cat.

She circles around, walks across the table next to me and squirms her way into my lap. This places her in a position where her face is 6 inches away from my face.

We look into each other's eyes.

What I see is nature and pure honesty. A living being who is being exactly who she is.

No artifice.

I wonder what she sees. I wonder what she senses.

I have to believe that when she looks into my eyes, when she picks up on the vibe emanating from me, she senses about 15 people.

Love has to be the overwhelming sensation bludgeoning her senses. I love these cats so much I will be arrested for it one day.

Beyond that she must sense the roiling, broiling, bubbling insanity that is my brain. That is my being.

The emotions and thoughts that careen from confidence to fear, from hope to despair, from joy to unhappiness, from pride to shame.

She absorbs it like the Buddha. She does not recoil. After all, she has lived in this house for 12 years.

She knows stuff.

She absorbs it with wisdom and understanding.

I would like to think she is putting out a comforting vibe that will soothe me. A vibe that will teach me and change me and get me closer to nature.

Closer to myself.

I know that having Lakota in my lap, or Maka in my lap, or many times both of them in my lap, is a peaceful, loving chunk of life that increases my potential for longevity.

Looking into Lakota's eyes, six inches from my own, is an intense experience.

She laughs inside at the turmoil and wonders why I can't get back to basics. Back to me.

I wonder the same thing.