Here’s Barney, at peace with himself in a snowy world.
I was thinking about how our animal companions depend on us, are so much in our hands. About how much good, or ill, our hands can do. About how it can come down to just plain luck, whose hands are at work. Our friend Teresa put her good Tellington Touch hands on Bugs the other day. Lucky.
I was thinking about whose hands Barney found himself in, before he was picked up wandering around outside. Those must have been good hands. How could they have let him go? I was thinking about how lucky I am, that Barney’s foster mom kept him the six months it took for me to show up. To say to myself, that’s my boy. There’s a cat I can learn from.
These days, now it’s so cold, he’s created this early-morning ritual. Burrowing under the covers. Purring loudly.
Never so glad to be so wrong.