Balance - Raindance

I’m having one of those hurry up and wait weeks. Big annual work event for students and a big donor site visit scheduled a day apart – lots of work but also some waiting based around other peoples’ needs.

I go a day early to Maddie’s, and am not surprised to find fewer potential adopters than recently and a high volunteer to cat ratio. Good news: shy little Tabitha just found a home. But unfortunately pretty tabby and white Puff was returned, not sure why.

My first kitty demands my attention as soon as I enter her hall – Mask is a friendly enthusiastic 13 year old who knows what she wants, and what she wants is some petting here and now. She’s soft and pretty, gray mottled with tan, and while her meows are a bit insistent, soon she sits happily in front of me, nudging her head around my hand and purring. I like a cat who lets you know what she’s thinking.

A woman pauses outside the door, and Mask meets her eye with a squawky meow, clearly pleased at the prospect of more petting. But she moves on, and I soon go next door to pet sweet shy Raindance. She's a young tabby and white long hair girl, a cute combo of shy and affectionate, who's starting to come out of her shell.

A whole talkative group come in, scaring the more skittish kitties back into hiding. A middle aged woman, accompanied by what appear to be several family members, approaches me. She’s specifically looking for a young orange tabby. (I’m a bit skeptical about such particular requests for coloring, but ready to help.)

She points out a brown tabby kitten, a shy "Cherry Blossom," and just the two of us go in. She explains that the cat will be for her son. I’m picturing a rambunctious child, and caution about how shy this cat is, but she clarifies further that the son is 24. She’s kind of scouting out the available cat situation because she’s newly retired and has the spare time, and he's so busy. Also, she’ll be around to help care for the cat, and it’ll be nice to have a companion.

Next we meet Donatol, a lovely 1 year old orange tabby, who’s squirmy and sweet, and certainly fits the stated requirements. The group all seem enthusiastic and promise to return with the busy son in tow.

They leave and I return to the pretty kitty. He seems a little intimidated by the commotion, but quickly slinks out for a bite to eat and some scratching behind the ears.

I sit there thinking about the line we all seem to walk, seeking a balance between busyness – the good kind, moving fast, thinking hard, being in the flow of things – and peaceful relaxation, calm hours to be relished, not bored. It’s easier now that it used to be, but it’s never really that simple.