Muddled in the Morning
I have walked myself into a commitment. Not entirely unwillingly but some casual words spoken have been jumped upon and are being waved like a banner and a call to action.Its all about the cats. I have an opportunity perhaps, to rehome Furball, essential as I plan to travel this year for myself (the CS MO meet) and will also have at least two business trips. There is no one else to rely upon to feed him and he would not flourish in a cage.
In the course of that conversation with a shelter that does not take cats - indeed offering refuge for cats is not high on any of the three possible places, one won't take them, one crams them in a room, all shapes and sizes together, and number three euthanises after 10 days- anyway, after speaking about Furball I mentioned the feral cats who visit me for breakfast.
The lady I was speaking with mentioned their spay and neuter program where they will help to cut down on the increasing feral cat population but the cats must be returned to the original habitat. I thought it sounded like a good idea and said so. I also said that I was willing to help in any way I could.
Last evening I received a follow up phone call, explaining to me how careful I need to be putting these cats into cages and saying the clinic will be alerted to expect me complete with cats to be fixed. The procedures may be put on the shelter's bill although they would be grateful for any help I can give in that department as well.
So suddenly I am committed to drive to the other end of the island by nine a.m. tomorrow to pick up cat traps and cages for my breakfast guests.
It is early morning now, and I feel a little sulky at the prospect of fighting the morning traffic tomorrow instead of my usual cunning 'miss everybody' timing and as so many people operate on Bajan time there is no guarantee that what I arrive for will be ready when I arrive, although the quick action to neuter the cat colony is reassuring on that point.
No doubt I will feel more humane and warm and fuzzy after I eat. The transition to eating again has some unforeseen challenges, it had not occurred to me that my sparkling empty digestive system did not contain a vacuum and that the advent of food would automatically shift the resident air along to make room.
I also had not realised that I would not particularly feel like eating. I miss the euphoria that overcame me on the third day, it is fading, just a little, as the body gets too busy to be carefree in quite the same way.
On the plus side (there is always a plus side) I can tell the difference between thirst and hunger and although I get sleepy at the appropriate time I have lost the dragging tiredness that used to turn the earth to mud about my ankles, and my joints don't hurt at all!
The other reason for my 'grumpy frog' morning feelings is I worked yesterday and will again today. I love my job but I did not really want to spend my whole weekend recording and editing. Also, by the time I record some hundred or so "Words of Love" from across the ages my voice will be a shadow in my throat.
Tough old life. Doing exactly what I choose to do, living the life I have created for myself and indulging in the inestimable luxury of bitching for a few minutes because my comfort level is being pushed again.
And in the background I am laughing at myself because I invite all this. I love it while I live it and while I may sulk a moment here or there the smile inside could light the world if there was a way to tap its power.
Now if only I could say to someone "Pull my finger!"