he’s baaaaack!

All is not right in my world. A couple days ago, however, the world got brighter … and a little righter too.

I’ve written before of the traveling minstrel named Moose. He’s a Zen samurai cat, a character, a handsome willful Juliet with Romeo eyes.

Moose isn’t one to be cooped up without serious consequences. Neither is he a cuddly lap cat or highly demonstrative. He's a creature of few words who shows his affection in other ways. I like that about him. I understand that about him. We're in sync.

Moose lives in the apartment above and thanks to his window kitty door he comes and goes as he pleases — and his freedoms please him considerably. He’s no stranger to my digs. I’m not a cat person but Moose is an unusual and highly intelligent creature (who tends to thinks he’s a dog) so my door’s open. He’s a bright spot in this dark, depressing, haunted, life-sucking abode.

I'd known there were issues between him and his owner, Paul, whereby Moose was being kept indoors. His extended absence became a concern, delivering me knocking at Paul's door to check whether Moose was OK.

He wasn’t.

Moose was miserable. He was lethargic, shedding considerably from the stress and had lost weight. The fire in his eyes was dimmed.

I understand Moose, his needs and character. Paul's a good guy though not highly attuned to animals. I have Moose's, and every animal's, best interests at heart. Paul and I talked at length about the issues he was attempting to resolve. As I listened to Moose in my arms, I turned to Paul, "He's so miserable. If this continues, he's going to become sick."

Paul appreciated my interest, concern and input and we parted agreeing to communicate further.

Moose's interment continued. The hood was not the same without the kitty kingpin. His brethren came calling. They missed him. I missed him.

Last Thursday I heard intuitively his cry for help. Paul was at work. I went to their front door, lay on the floor and through the narrow crack yelled "Moooooose! Mooose!" He didn't come, neither had I expected him to. I wanted him to know that I heard him, his unhappiness, his cry, and that I was there.

The following day was glorious! I blinked twice, thrice. Moose appeared at my window sill! He was free!

I don't know the all of Paul's mental processes that led to his liberation; they don't matter. What mattered was that Moose was out and about again, as he should be, and back in my life – and abode – as he should be.

Jubilantly I hurried to open the door and welcomed him with hugs, kisses to the head and joyful greetings as I let him resume his groove.

In his quiet manner he seemed genuinely happy being back. I'd never seen him stretch out like this inside the kitchen window sill. How fortunate that the sun happened to be shining!

I couldn’t decide between two facial pics so both make the post:

That black blob, that's Moose tonight, lost in my uber-downy comforter that so startled Mr. Cool the first time he stepped in:

Moose’s world is now brighter and righter and therefore also mine.

Read and post comments | Send to a friend


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: