Pooh, the cat who lets us live with him, doesn’t feel well. I was going to say, “My cat, Pooh.” But a person never really owns a cat. A cat allows people to live with them. They really rule us. And in this case, I am on Pooh’s staff. I am his typist. Pooh is a writer.
He came and lay beside my computer this morning and put his head on my hand as I was writing. His left ear, the one that is not bent, is swollen. He closed his eyes and rested his head on my hand.
I picked him up and carried him into the living room and held him on my lap. He was content. Then he walked off my lap and went to the front door. He wants to go outside. Pooh will have to stay in the house. He doesn’t have a cell phone, so I won’t be able to text him to come home when it’s time to go the doctor’s.
Pooh likes to do his business in the backyard. But, today he will have to be content with the litter box in the basement.
As soon as the veterinarian’s office opens I will call and make an appointment.
Please pray for Pooh. He likes his doctor, but he doesn’t like taking pills.
Pooh may have to stay inside for a few days. Over the next few days he will have the opportunity to dictate his life story to me. He has been so busy hunting mice in the backyard he has not taken time to write. Perhaps his illness will help him see what is really important in life.
Pooh says he is a writer, but he seldom takes the time to write. Or to dictate his story. He dictates, I type.
You can read his stories at www.thecatwhowrites.com.
Time spent with cats is never wasted.
Sigmund Freud
Do you have a cat in your life?
Check out your local SPCA. They will have kitty or a cat who would love to run your life.
