It's 7:30 on a Saturday night and I'm already in my pj's. And I'm quite happy with this turn of events. If it wasn't for the rather constant conversation my youngest cat, Rey, howlingly demands (as in, "What, Rey?" and "Good boy, Rey!" and "You're making me crazy, you psycho cat!"), I don't think I would utter another word until Monday.I am fortunate. I have friends I could hang with. I have my mom to call. I just don't feel like it. And the solitude feels like a luxury.
I think of people who are alone on Saturday but not by choice. What is a private indulgence to me is painful to them. I'm grateful that I'm seldom if ever lonely.
is that really your cat? cuuuute!
ReplyDeleteNah. That's a photo from Google images of a cat known as "Leo." But it captures Rey rather nicely. Every evening he's in my face like that. I used to try to figure out what he wants when he howls like this (food? fresh water? clean box? tossing the old catnip mouse?), but then I realized all he wants is me to answer him.
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