Cats and Late Night Blizzards
The cat is lying sideways on my arm, stretched out full-length with her paws touching my neck. This makes it very hard to type the profound entry I had in mind, since I don't want to disturb her. She purrs deep in her throat, though sometimes it feels like its rumbling from her upper chest. I can't think of many sounds more relaxing than a cat purring. What is that anyway? Is she asleep when she purrs? I wonder if cats dream. A snowplow drives by, which makes me turn to see if it's still snowing. Cat turns her head with me and opens her eyes to small slits. She can't be bothered with something as small as a major blizzard. She moves her head to my shoulder and rests her paws on the computer. I have to lift my head higher to see the screen.I wonder if the blowing snow will block the road again and envy the cat as she taps my hand with her paw. It's like she's saying, "Forget the wind; you were scratching my neck, remember? Keep your priorities straight. I am Cat. I am very important."
The heater kicks on. Patch whimpers in his sleep, probably seeing some clear image of the deer by the river that he doesn't dare follow onto the ice. He remembers the ice as blue-green liquid that constantly moves and can swallow up small dogs. It puzzles him to see other dogs and deer walk on water.
In New York, Megan and I talked about how our fears had changed over the years. Gangs and guns don't scare us. The homeless only make us sad because we've been there. Now, she's afraid of unpaid bills, cars that won't start, of husbands who get ill.
I don't know what I'm afraid of . . . I can certainly think of events that would scare me--like losing her again, or losing one of my sons to death or sin--the same. I would be afraid of ever losing touch with the Lord, where I couldn't hear Him or sense His nearness. But, right now, I don't feel any fear. This cat is warm, and she fills up my ears with her "catness." She rolls over on her stomach and pushes my arm again and, for me, tonight, she purrs away the blowing snow, the icy streets and blocked roads. She purrs them away into thin air like I blow away the dead heads of dandelions.