Diary of a Quarantined Cat: Day 3

10 am
Today the humans seem a little anxious. I don't understand - I haven't seen any ghosts in days (although Gasping George did stop by last Thursday). I can't think of what else would make the humans so on edge. Maybe raccoons? But those guys haven't stopped by the backyard in ages either. I'm pretty sure I scared them off last time with my kill stare. You're lucky I'm an indoor cat, Rocky.

The loud one was talking on her chat box for hours yesterday. She kept saying, "it's just so crazy!" She's been home a lot more lately. I'm not sure how I feel about it.

The snuggle human is home most of the time normally, so that hasn't changed. We snuggle more now though. It's great. The loud one tries to insert herself sometimes, but there's really no room.

The humans said something about "surgery" the other day, and they keep looking at me. I don't like this word. The last time they used it, I went to that awful place with all the dogs. The snuggle human seems concerned that they might cancel some surgery because of some virus. This virus keeps coming up. I'm not sure what's going on, but if it's keeping me from surgery, I'm OK with it.

4 pm
They took the carrier out of the closet. This concerns me. Maybe I should pee in it.

Diary of a Quarantined Cat: Day 2

8 am
The Humans are still in bed, despite my desperate pleas for help. They locked me out of their nap chamber hours ago. They clearly don't understand the gravity of the situation.

The loud one feeds me in the morning. She has so much energy during the evenings, but most mornings I think she's died. She looks awful, and doesn't move for hours. I tried to eat her face once, but she was alive.

9 am
The loud one finally fed me. She's awake, but she still looks awful. I heard her say that she's trying to bathe less. Less than never? I've never seen her lick herself.

12 pm
Again with this extra meal. I'm writhing on the ground because there are no words. Do you not see my pain? No, I am NOT trying to be cute.

5 pm
I disagree with the loud one's decision not to bathe. The house smells more and more like humans every day. Disgusting creatures.

XOXO,
Bubbles

Diary of a Quarantined Cat: Day 1

9 am
My humans have been home more lately. The clicky metal lap-warmers seem to upset them. I try to cover these devices with my body to make the humans calmer, but this upsets them more.

12 pm
The humans eat three times a day? How have they kept this from me? The injustice! No, I will not silence my songs of oppression! Not until I am given the same feeding rights!

3 pm
I tried to nap in the other room, but now the humans seem to want to hang out. They didn't want to hang out with me when I protected them from the clicky box, so they don't get me now. Put me down. Put me down I say!!

4 pm
I have not forgotten about this extra meal that you indulge in. I will accept an early dinner as compensation for my struggles.

Pandemic

The streets are quiet

A silent riot

Perhaps I'll stay inside

It's like a test

The worst and best

Of humanity magnified

The sun still shines

In trying times

Somehow it doesn't mind

So sing a song

And call your mom

But most of all, be kind

Mind Your Garden

Be sure to mind your garden, for it is the source of life. There are trees that bear fruit to feed you, and plants that grow beautiful flowers that bring you joy. Each plant is different, and you must research and observe it to understand how to care for it. You must understand the composition of the plants in the garden to ensure that one tree doesn’t block the sun from another, or that its roots don't become invasive and hoard all of the water. You must understand the soil - is it too acidic? If so, you have to replace it with new soil. Strong, healthy roots are necessary for any plant to thrive.

Don’t ignore the weeds; it is a constant practice to remove them thoughtfully and thoroughly. Don’t use chemicals; they seem efficient and thorough, but they harm more than you know, and everything is in a delicate balance. Most of all, spend time in your garden. You learn the most when you observe, and the more time you spend, the more you appreciate the beauty of what it’s become. It’s always had this potential, it just needed some care and attention. It just needed you to understand it.

An Abstract Tapestry

I've been thinking a lot about consciousness recently, and what it means to be alive. The moments where I have the most clarity and peace are the moments that I feel connected to something bigger; moments where I think life might have meaning. As a realist, I question this, of course. Humans want clarity. Humans want peace. And wouldn’t it be convenient if those feelings could be found in a belief – belief that there is more to the world than what we see, belief that there is a deeper meaning and purpose to all of it, that our lives aren’t meaningless. As I mulled this over in my head at 2am, I had a thought that summarized it all: when you connect to your own spirituality, life goes from being a chaotic shit-show to a beautiful tapestry; everything has a place and purpose, and all of it together might just make sense.

If everything means something, suddenly you start paying attention. Maybe you didn’t pay attention before, but now you notice the trees, and the birds and the buildings. You notice the way the wind makes small ripples and waves across the bay. You notice how the paint is chipped slightly on the white railing that you’re leaning on, to reveal an older coat of light green paint. You notice that if you dig your nail into that little spot of missing paint, you can chip the white paint away a little more, or even chip the green paint away to reveal the naked metal of the railing. Then you notice that you feel a little guilty about chipping the paint off, but it also made you feel good in the moment. As you lean against the railing, looking out across the bay, your hands tucked in front of you, you can pick at the paint without anyone knowing. With that thought, you rip another little piece of white paint off and watch it fall into the bay below. It almost disappears during its descent, but you manage to keep an eye on it as it lightly touches the top of a small wind-whipped wave. You start to notice things like this. You notice that writing is the only thing that keeps you sane somehow. So you write. You write about the little things that you notice.

Love is not Attachment

The river flows to the beach

But she traps it with a dam
Her own pool within reach
Will soon become grand

But the still water seeps
To a spring underground
And looks for the beach
In the dark, til it's found