The past year made me do crazy things. Like rethink my life choices, and get my act together. But the realisation that I needed to change things came suddenly and out of the blue...
It all started with my kitten stepping onto my keyboard while I was in the middle of work one gloomy winter afternoon. He rubbed his nose in my face, meowing in a high-pitched tone, tapping my hand. Then, he simply sat on my desk and started pressing his paws against the keys on the keyboard, as if trying to send me a message.
I tried to catch him out on that many times after that, but nope, nothing. All he does now is sleep next to me, laying on the wire of the mouse, occasionally clicking that when I'm not paying him enough attention (so, if I end up losing this, that's his fault).
Jokes aside, I found it extremely cute at first. With the lockdown and all, I was more than happy to spend a few hours a day moving his furry mouse around, dangling it in front of him. I entertained him, and in return, he let me work. I know it's quite an unhealthy relationship, but what can I say? Beady eyes and a tiny pink nose do that to any sane person.
Although, when I realised that I was taking pictures of him practically every hour, then sending them to people I hardly spoke to for the past year, it started to click: I'm becoming one of those people.
You know, the crazy cat ladies, who have nothing better to do than to play with their cats (I wanted to use a different word, but it might have been misleading, considering what I write, ehem), then go around at parties pinching kids' cheeks for fun.
The problem is that I didn't even see a problem with it, because, let's face it, Felix was pretty much the only entertainment we had during the winter months, and we both adore him.
Of course, he often repays us by scratching our eyes out, or doing his business when I just sit down to write... Still, even with his newly-developed (and quite cryptic) writing habits, he is our little fur baby.
Gosh, I'm doing it again, aren't I? I probably need therapy. Or get out more.
But anyway, where was I?
Ah, yes, the cat (as if I could ever forget). Despite all the frustration, the late nights waking up comforting him, and yes, despite becoming a crazy cat lady, I wouldn't change any of it, even if I could. I became someone I never thought I would be, and my motherly instincts kicked in. Funny how caring for someone (or something) makes you feel so alive.
It is said that animals are quite therapeutic, and although they can certainly give as much grief as any human we know (sometimes even more), they certainly have their funny moments that can brighten up the darkest days.
So, now, despite everything, I guess I'm trying to say that it's okay to go crazy sometimes. Post as many cat videos as you want, and ooh and ah at cute baby pictures, if that's your thing. Take up that new hobby, live your life.
Because, right now, it's all about the small moments that we can cherish.
Felix might wake me up in the middle of the night to demand his Garfield biscuits, but he is also the one who will come running if I'm crying, and he is also the one to tell me I need to take a break from work. I am also the one he headbutts to say good morning, and he wouldn't go to sleep without saying goodnight first.
He looks after me in his own cute way, even if it's not that obvious all the time.
Oh, and guess what? When I'm cooking, then I'm practically a goddess in his eyes. He watches my every move like the tiniest hawk, quietly observing the movement of my hands. he occasionally tries to attack when I'm cleaning, because he thinks I'm playing with him, but I forgive him for that.
So, yes, I will keep reading my kitten's crazy stories, and I might even credit him in a story if he comes up with a good line or two.
By the way, do you have any fur babies that help you read/write/cook/do the dishes? Pictures are more than welcome. We crazy cat and dog ladies and gentlemen should all stick together, right?