Slowing it Down – Zoe Rock

Good news at Maddie’s – Kentucky, Beans, and senior lady Mask have all been adopted. Disappointing follow up, though – I see that two different mature former adoptees, chatty orange Persian Chaka, and sweet, super-sized black and white Junior, have been returned.

Chaka greets me happily and loudly, immediately friendly and hopping onto my lap. She keeps an eye on the hallway too, and trots to her door to say hello to a couple young women passing by. Still a charmer, I’m glad to see.

Not long later a woman and adult daughter approach. They’ve just lost one of a pair of cats. They seem numb still, a bit overwhelmed, but also anxious that the remaining cat not be alone. We go in to meet a shy young kitty, who seems a bit intimidated. I talk to the daughter a little more, and try to nicely suggest that a brief mourning period might be appropriate for their cat. That’s how I phrase it, but I really mean for the people too. I‘m not sure any of them will be quite ready for an interloper – even an adorable one – quite so soon, and I assure the women that Maddie’s will still have plenty of cats looking for new homes in the days to come.

They keep looking around, and I settle in with Zoe Rock, the shy 6 year old long hair calico. She’s gone from scaredy cat to just quirky, launching herself out to vigorously rub my legs and roll around happily, purring and emitting little purr grunts while I pet her.

I’ve been in a rush all day – laundry and several errands this morning, hurrying here to put in most of my volunteer shift but leave time to catch the end of the Giants home opener. (Go Giants! It kind of reminds me of when the Dead were in town – I’ve seen people wearing the gear everywhere I go.) And this is all on my day off.

But soothing Zoe makes me slow down. And sitting there on the floor stroking her, silent and still, I suddenly recall a dream from last night. Both my parents were alive and well, and driving me through my hometown in our VW mini-bus. They were chatting together about how much better they both felt.

Sometimes it’s sad to wake up from that sort of dream. But last night, it just felt peaceful. My boy was purring, pressing his nose into my hair, and I felt like I’d just had a little visit with the folks. Makes me wonder how much else is missed, what other flutterings of semi-consciousness just disappear, from forgetting to slow down. Thanks, kitties.