Sunday, December 8, 2013

Sunday Memories: Forgetting The Past

It's slow dissolving ghosts.

Each time we'd lean forward or walk past her or even when she jumped up on chairs so we could scratch her ear, Goldie would recoil, desperate to protect herself from a past she couldn't tell us about, but terrified if she didn't let us touch her she wouldn't get fed.

A thousand cans of cat food later, sometimes 8 at night, sometimes 4 in the morning, she knows even as she cringes, she'll be fed, she'll be scratched, she'll be loved.   No matter what.  She knows there are toys to chase, hands that willingly rub her belly, and lots of warm blankets and clean laundry and laps to rest in, even if it is just killing time before another can.

It is when the birds are out, she can forget the past.  For here, she gets a chance to dream, on a full stomach, of the hunt.

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