Last night as I relaxed at Hailey and Leah's birthday party and enjoyed Ed's great eats and Emily's hospitality while fellowshipping with family, my eyes drifted to the large picture window framing the dark outside.
Fortunately, it was a yawn, not a snarl, and the watcher was Ginger, a feline of generally good intentions, involuntarily expressing the ennui of being left outside at the height of the evening's festivities.
Reflecting on Ginger's plight, I realized she had most likely appealed to her least sympathetic guest.
Hoot owl karma happens out there. Away from the protective cover of air-conditioned, hermetically-sealed suburban dwellings and vehicles constructed likewise.
How would it be to be a cat, I wondered, free to roam and stalk and eat and play and discover and live in the wild out-of-doors all night?
Hot and muggy with lots of mosquito bites tonight, I reckoned.
As I sipped my coffee this morning from a favorite pottery mug, I glanced outside. Seuss, mild-mannered lord of the Randolph's realm, peered serenely back from high atop his throne, relishing the fresh, crisp morning air.
How would it be to be a cat, I wondered, free to roam and stalk and eat and play and discover and live in the wild out-of-doors all day?