Bat-eared Cat

Cat on My Lap

It has not been a week with an abundance of readily available delights, but here is one, struggling to write this because my 20 year old cat just decided she absolutely must sit on my lap, the lap upon which I was writing. So I have her to thank for the inspiration as I was going to write about something lesser like the smell of laundry fresh out of the dryer, the feel of writing with an excellent pen (not the one that wrote this), the sound of my son (home from school for the summer) chattering with a good friend.

My Little Helper

I just read Ross Gay’s delight–a rhapsody about home-grown carrots. I don’t have carrots in my garden but I have a carroty weed that pulls from the ground with the same satisfying pop. It is hard not to channel Gay’s stream-of-consciousness writing style as I pen this.
I any event today’s happy moment is about the weight of warm, furry, elderly cat on my lap. She has a lot to teach about aging with dignity.

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