Annie loves to curl up on a chair near the verandah door and snooze. Or lie in the sun, soft many-coloured belly up, loving the warmth and peace. Maggie sits, sleeps, plots new adventures.
|This looks like my old Zekey. However, it is a pose Maggie often assumes in relation to Annie|
Maggie Muggins' other name is Trouble.
Last night, 10ish, I realized Annie wasn't about. I searched high (not low, as I still can't bend) and in all corners several times. No sign of her, so I decided I'd better get my jeans on and check outside - just in case. Sure enough, I'd just opened the downstairs door when a scared kitty meowed pitifully and slipped past me and up the stairs.
I'm making an assumption here, and of course we should never (well seldom) make assumptions - but I believe Maggie chased Annie on the verandah last night, that Annie leaped onto either the railing or the bedroom window ledge and slipped. Tales of a flying cat, and further proof that cats have nine lives.
This morning, I can see the squished peonies down below - evidence - and I can be glad she went off the garden end and not the driveway end. Maggie continues to look innocent, but ... we know better, don't we?
This rest time for healing from the surgery is a mixture ... I probably haven't spent time in peace like this since retreat times in convent days - wind whispers, sunfall and rainlight - puddles to splash in - watching things grow - breathing softly. Of course, there is also sometimes a restlessness - or a hunger for rhubard pie or a gingerbread cookie. Sadness about a tragic situation at the Mission that I can't do anything about - and perhaps no one can.
I feel a little like I'm in a cocoon. Held in space and time. Life flowing around me, sometimes unreal. Protected. Alone - though I do, of course, have helpful friends. And alone is often a good thing. Time to ponder or simply be.
And there is tea with the Queen. Well, lunch. Well, not with the Queen. But whenever I have tomato and cucumber sandwiches, I imagine I'm royalty having tea with the Queen. I expect hers would be much daintier, but my sandwich was very tasty.
And now, as my friend Holly told me, I must put my bum on the chair since that is the main exercise if one wishes to write. I'm onto "Grandpa Didn't Die in Uruguay." :-)
And for a bit of extra fun!!