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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
 
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Daily Cascade
Since my old blog "Everyday Canvas "  became overfilled, here's a new one. This new blog item will continue answering prompts, the same as the old one.
Cool water cascading to low ground
To spread good will and hope all around.
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Prompt:
"Cats are distant, discreet, impeccably clean and able to stay silent. What more could be needed to be good company?"
Write about this quote in your Blog entry today.
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Well, okay, I have to take the opposite view for the word "distant" when describing cats. I have never ever owned a distant cat. If anything, all my cats were very friendly and loving, to the degree of overbearing at times. The last one, however, used to run and hide under a chair when the doorbell rang or someone came to visit. Yet, she was always very warm to me.
But then, each cat has his and her own personality; some are needy, others are more independent, but all my cats were very affectionate and we formed a unique cat-human bond as long as they were with me. A case in point: When I was a teenager, my mother suddenly took very ill and I was crying in the kitchen while preparing her food. My then cat--a feral gray I had picked up from the street and somehow made her into a nice house cat that adapted to me and to our house--jumped on the table and began licking my tears. This show of affection and comfort has stayed with me all my life.
My last cat, Noche, who passed away about a year ago, was not a lap-cat but she loved to sit next to me, so I made sure wherever I sat in the house, there would be another seat or an empty space close to me where she could comfortably sit. Noche didn't mind, however, when I picked her up and petted her. In fact, she loved it. I knew it from her purring and licking my hand and putting her head on my chest. But she wasn't comfortable on my lap, otherwise. She wanted her very own seat, next to me. On the bed, she would still sleep next to me also, by putting her paw on some part of me, but she never climbed inside the covers or over me.
Noche became my cat when she was already twelve and she was quite agile, playful, and loved sitting with me inside the closed porch and watching the yard--the squirrels, rabbits, and many birds--from a distant. Once a large frog found its way into the bedroom and I was worried that Noche would bite the frog, maim it, or get herself hurt. No such thing happened. She sat across the frog and imitated the frog's motions. If the frog moved to one side, Noche moved toward that side. This went on for about two hours or so. Then, the frog suddenly jumped. So did Noche, but the two never even touched. Finally, I got the frog to move toward the front door and let it out. I think some angel must have helped me in the process because imagine trying to capture or lead a jumping frog through the house to the front door!
Another weird thing with all my cats was, while most of them slept comfortably and quietly, Noche would talk in her sleep, literally talk, making sounds more humanlike. I don't know why. I think, maybe because in her previous home, there was a dog she didn't like and a larger cat she fought with. Could she have been dreaming of her earlier years! Just maybe.
I so miss having a cat, and I miss Noche especially, but I won't get another cat or any other animal. This is because I am old and what will happen to the animal if I died! Even a most adaptable cat can have some emotional trauma in the least, when the owner changes. Plus, everyone I know wouldn't take a cat since they all have dogs. I wouldn't want a tamed house cat living in a shelter and heaven-forbid be subject to euthanasia or medical lab research.
So I live with my cat memories, now, And they are among the most beautiful memories I have. I believe I have been blessed with those memories and the knowledge that I once was friends with such animals as cats that are beautiful inside out.
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