The Little Thing(s)

Likes small spaces

Likes small spaces

As I was preparing to feed the cats today, the skies opened up outside and a darkness exploded upon the flat in a crack of thunder. I realised that Wilma, my tiny black cat with white socks, who normally hides around the corner waiting for her turn and comes when she’s called, had disappeared. I called, but no Wilma responded.

Leaving the two boys and Zoe waiting in their usual spots below me and on top of the fridge, I went in search of the little black one and found her huddled under the bed. As I called her name, she whispered tinily. I placed her food bowl on the floor next to the bed. She crawled out to take a sniff, but the sky let out another angry cry and she retreated back to her hiding place under the bed. I closed all the doors to the bedroom, left with a promise to be back and went to feed the others.  Regular feeding in the kitchen resumed without drama and after washing up the food bowls and clearing the litter trays in anticipation of post-meal deposits, I went back into the bedroom to find Wilma’s food bowl still untouched and her position unchanged.

The sky had cleared by this time. Our local thunder god in the east has a pre-disposition towards deafening, but short-lived explosions. We might’ve had a similar upbringing.  I sat down on the floor and called to the little one. With a small sound, she slinked out from under the bed and settled down tentatively in front of me. I cradled her in my arms and as she relaxed, I showed her the window and how the world was beautiful outside with a bit of light and a layer of wetness that meant life had just been refreshed and renewed. I then placed her on the floor in front of her food bowl and watched as she took a sniff and then proceeded to slurp quietly at her meal in peace.

That was when I realised, that after all is said and done, through the battles lost and won, these are the moments that I truly live for.

Wilma's fan

Wilma’s fan

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