This morning feels like a pause in the action.
A dilute color-scheme seems right for today because that’s what things feel like at the moment. It’s mild, freshly rained, out there.
I want to whisper so Bugs won’t hear.
I don’t think I’m exaggerating if I say Bugs has been simply insane, for days now. I don’t know what’s got into him. Cat-erwauling nonstop from dawn to dusk. It’s a wonder he has any vocal chords left.
Steady high winds, which have quieted only now, after four solid days? More earthquakes? (I may have imagined these.) More illness, diagnosed in friends and loved ones? (Wish I’d imagined that — ) Loss of important client? Internet crashing now and then? Stress-filled dreams? Ugly public events?
Or maybe it’s today’s vet appointment. Bugs definitely remembers the last one. He won’t go into his crate now, neither for love nor money — before, all it took was a gesture . . . .
I just want the vet to check his ears and pronounce them clear — and to weigh him one more time, to see whether dietary tweaks have worked — I can always cancel, if I can’t get him into the crate —
Right now I think I’ll just try denial.
A strategy that has worked so well, for so many.