Writer, Photographer,

Disclaimer: Cat post. You have been warned. 

What Myna wants, more than anything, is to go outside. 

To me, she is the holy grail of cats. Affectionate without crowding you, full of endearing quirks, and a truly graceful and beautiful physical specimen. But whenever I walk toward any door: let the dog out, get the mail, or go outside to peek at my neighbor’s basset hound puppies (so cute!), I can’t pretend I don’t know what Myna wants. 

She’ll stare out there for hours, making this forlorn little kitty noise. She’ll see a bird or some kind of bug when she’s staring out into the world, and she’s instantly transfixed and makes this crazy clicking sound. A hunter who cannot get close enough to the things she wants. 

She pleads her case to me often. Staring up at me, stretching up to pat at me with her little paws, she’ll run first to the door, then back to me, then make this tortured sound that’s more of a genuine PLEASE than I’ve probably ever heard from most people I know. 

But I just can’t open the door for her, because I know what’s out there and she doesn’t. She sees the sunshine, she longs for the grass and to hunt and to feel the wind brush her whiskers. But she doesn’t know what antifreeze is, she doesn’t know that those cars zooming past can hurt her, and is not aware of the dog next door that killed my other neighbor’s dog 6 months ago. She knows a full belly and companionship and a safe place to play and sleep. I try not to take it too personally that she wants more.

And so I keep her in, and my heart breaks a little more each time I tell her “I’m sorry” and offer lame substitutes: opening the blinds in the office while I work so she can stare out in wonder, and even though I’m afraid that she could just claw me and run for it I sometimes carry her outside and just walk around for a bit. 

And I understand what she wants because I’m just like her. I have been given everything I need to live and be comfortable, but I still sit and stare out the window, day after day. Crying, pleading, dreaming, grasping at any opportunity to get close to what’s out there: the things I think I need in order to be happy. And God takes my hand, sits down beside me at the window, and always seems to say “I’m sorry. But that will break your heart, this over here will leave you empty, and that one way over there…that one will kill you. And I love you too much. I want to keep you in here where I know you’re safe. I wish you would just trust that I know what’s best.”

Me and Myna, dreamers side by side, trying to be content inside the safety of a plan created by one who loves us.

 

 

 

But oh, for a house without windows.

   

This entry was posted on Sunday, June 8th, 2008 at 12:58 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.