Every morning my eyes blink into a new day with my cats at purrrr at my side. If a migraine stomps the forests of my imaginings, Taz adds a paw to my forehead, a skrinching massage rhythmed with vibration of his deep chest hum tight against my head. If thinks echo demands to find their way to a page, Nani’s quiet “mreowww’s” climb up my side, a furred pressure to let them simmer and grow. Soon my bud’s curl and stretch a v-body
entanglement of face licks insisting breakfast should be considered. If the blues hold my heart, their instinct generates a played idiocy that brings my deep chest chortles and a sunshine into the windows of my pensive everywhere. Yes, a hint of John Donne lives with me as well.
Companions come in many forms if I but take moments to notice. A white intricacy of feather-like seed drifts in a breeze, a chickadee chippers, a chipmunk scampers up the back of a squirrel to join the bird feeder raid, a woodchuck lumbers to a neighbor’s downed tree menagerie – mostly I find the Spirit of God and enjoy the wondrous company – if I but notice.