[SB] Sabbath Blessing

[Molly Wolf]

Squeak

*Squeak.*

"Calvin, it is 6:45 in the morning. I'm sleeping. Go away."

*Squeak.* More urgently. Black cat Calvin, who is part-Siamese, has a 
particularly piercing squeak. He's got the Siamese lankiness, too, and the 
force of personality. He is by far the smallest of the three felines, but 
that's only physical size. In terms of personal intensity, he beats the big 
ones, hands down. When he want out, he practically tries to burrow through 
the door. When he wants down, he wants down NOW. And now he is standing on 
my chest at a quarter to seven in the morning, and he wants to be fussed.

Specifically, he wants to knead my neck and wash my face obsessively while 
I stroke his long, skinny back and scritch around his face. He wants about 
10 minutes of such attention, which is approximately 9 minutes and 45 
seconds more than I want to give. I briefly contemplate getting up and 
tossing him out of my room, but Maggie is majestically slumbering up 
against my leg and I don't want to disturb her. Besides, Calvin doesn't beg 
for attention very often. Oh well.

We negotiate the kneading/washing business (face no, hand yes), and he 
purrs rapturously, thrusting his muzzle hard into the palm of my hand as I 
run my other hand over his silky fur.  I had no idea when I collected a 
small black fuzzball from the Humane Society that I'd end up with a cat 
this odd and this strong-minded. But here we are, early in the morning, and 
he is looking for the exchange of love -- not just to get it, but to give it.

It reminds me how strangely difficult the exchange of love is. You'd think 
it's straightforward: human beings in particular, but other critters as 
well, want to give and accept love. That's natural; it's fundamental, or so 
all the wise people say. And yet it's so difficult.  We learn too early 
that the world isn't necessarily a particularly loving place, and that the 
love that should surround us is all too often conditional, as human love so 
generally is. Wanting to love, we may find ourselves pulled into flawed or 
difficult relationships that do us more harm than good. Even when the 
relationships are good, they're never entirely easy. Suffering always seems 
to be the other side of joy -- but the opposite is also true.

To engage in the exchange of love with Calvin, he and I have to negotiate 
mutually acceptable terms (yes, you may lick my skin, but hand, not face; 
no, you may not use your claws when you're kneading bare flesh; yes, I will 
stay awake for a few minutes until you're reasonably satisfied; no, you may 
not chase Maggie off the bed). It would be easier and more self-serving 
just to throw both cats out into the hall. But to engage in the exchange of 
love means having to set self aside, however briefly, because in that 
giving-up and taking-on is the reward. In this particular case, a 
rapturously purring small and silky black cat, whose purring gradually 
slows and stops as he falls asleep in the crook of my arm.

http://spindlegeek.blog-city.com/


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I'm about to hit some sacred cows, and they moo so badly. -- Phyllis 
Tickle, aka The Divine Miz T.