|"Buddy, receiving a well earned stroke"|
I sit on a deckchair in the corner of my garden; drinking a warm cup of English tea on a chilly October morning, and looking to the concrete paving. I am in a more negative frame of mind than usual, and pondering life with an abject sadness. As happens to us all from time to time, the daily grind of life has caught me at a low, and I am hoping my silent garden thinking will lift my spirits. But today, it all feels impossible.
Finishing my tea, admitting defeat, and raising myself to stand, I suddenly spot a dainty little figure; high on a distant fence, and watching me with curious intent. It is Buddy – the neighbourhood cat. I have not seen him since I mowed my lawn a few weeks previous; upsetting him and less-forgiving moggy associate, Fatty. To them it was their jungle - and I had no permission to cut it down. I wonder if he is still angry at me?
In comparison to Fatty, Buddy is friendly and passive, and has always had this unique habit of turning up when I am at my most worried. On a birthday morning I spent all by lonesome, he was there as company. The day I was riddled with nerves before my first ever driving test, he turned up to calm me down. And even after a pointless heated argument with my girlfriend I had created out of ego, he arrived to let me know all is understood; and I am only a meager hooman who sometimes makes mistakes, not a regal cat, who is of course, perfect. These are just a few examples, but due to recent events, I am uncertain of his current feelings towards me.
As I say a cautious hello from the distance, Buddy relieves my fears; deciding to do as he always does. He hops off the fence into my garden, strolls up to me in his dainty, elegant manner, and then brushes the side of his head against my leg; allowing me to give him a collection of strokes and attentions. For the next ten minutes we are the best of friends. He jumps up for entertainment and more strokes, I tickle his belly as he shows his trust by exposing it to me, and then I feed him some delicious tuna noms; because I know how much he loves eating fish. During this time all my feelings of sadness and negativity disappear, purely because of Buddy's calming presence; suddenly, the day seems bright and beautiful again. We part ways, and as I wish him a good day, the sun peers out to the Earth from behind a cloud, presenting warmth; much like Buddy had peered out to me from behind the neighbours fence,with the exact same offering.
Buddy is, like all cats, magical, and carries a spiritual power us humans cannot rationally comprehend. Cynics may argue he does it just for the noms, but looking in his expressive, loving eyes, I know his visit is from the purest depths of his little kitty heart. From a distance he could feel my sadness, and wanted to remind me that all is forgiven, and everything is going to be okay; after seeing Buddy, life always is.
Fatty on the other hand, is nowhere to be seen. I assume it may take a little more than strokes and noms, to earn his forgiveness...
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