WHERE THE WARM THINGS ARE

There have been no pets in my living quarters for many years now, but when I was still growing up we had a number of animals living with us. One dog, and several cats. Plus a guinea pig. The canine and the assorted felines got along very well. They recognized each other as kindred spirits. Or members of a cross-cultural tribe. Don't think about it too much.
They happily slept together. Often on my bed.
Waking up with animals is something else.

For one thing, they're hard to move. They've staked out their space, and by weighing down the covers, they've neatly imprisoned a source of warmth. They're comfy. Supremely comfy. Just be quiet.
Of course I'd eventually disturb them.
They'd stretch, and amble away.
I had served my purpose.
Useless, awake.

Actually, during winter it was fun to have them on the bed. They never figured out how to get under the covers. But they were toasty and soft.


The guinea pig could often be found with cats curled around him. dozing. He calmly munched his lettuce while they slept. Clearly they would befriend anyone and anything that qualified as reasonably yielding and enjoyably warm. The dog joined them for company, but didn't know what to make of the guinea pig. Whose sole social gambit was to munch lettuce.

*      *      *      *      *

Here it is, Sunday morning. You wake up, stretch, and re-adjust your nightie. There's a large male tomcat on the coverlet next to you, purring. Rather than disturbing his repose, you decide to read to him, a volume from the bedside table. Perhaps one of the Beatrix Potter books. Peter Rabbit, Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle, Jeremy Fisher. Badgers, raccoons, bunnies, and field mice. A gentleman with sandy whiskers, and a duck.
The cat pretends it doesn't hear you, but secretly it enjoys these tales about food. So comforting to know that food has a life outside of the pan; he'd hate to think of them as just mono-dimensional, useful and edible but nothing more.
Your voice is girlish, soft, suggestive....
"Because the Mouse has teased Miss Moppet, Miss Moppet thinks she will tease the Mouse; which is not at all nice of Miss Moppet..."
Tom sympathises with both the mouse and the kitten.
He's a cat with great complexity.
Character, and soul.
Warmth.


After the cat has gone back to sleep, dreaming of the social life of wild game, you pad downstairs to fix a very tall glass of steaming milk-tea.
It is still early, very early.
Perhaps you also should doze a bit, there's so much free time, and very little that demands any attention when no one else is up yet.
Mmmm, milk-tea. Time to go back to bed.

Warm coverlet. Light streaming in. Cat at peace. Glass of milk-tea.
Set the alarm for seven thirty, that's another hour.
When it goes off, it will startle Tom.
Who will yowl and screech.
You can't wait.
Zzzz.

*      *      *      *      *

Why the heck am I up so early? Well, I've got things to do today. Leaving the house shortly after eight, probably won't be back until mid-evening.
But tomorrow I don't have to do a thing.
Planning to sleep in.




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