A Tiny Visitor

Homer came to visit me this morning. No, not "D'oh!" Simpson, and not the Poet/Philosopher either. Homer, in this especial case, is my landlady's cat.

He was out for his morning romp when I brought my garbage to the curb, and gleefully followed me back into my apartment. He nuzzled everything in sight, walked on every surface, followed me around while I made coffee and gathered my wits for the working day.

He even allowed me to comb him. He so enjoyed it, in fact, that he lay down on my chest as I was combing him, buried his face in the crook of my arm, and purred to beat the band.

He dunted my face multiple times and asked for sustenance, but all my cat food and cat treats have gone back to the house along with Troi, my own cat, who prefers the larger estate and more accessible windows to life with mommy.

So I offered Homer a cup of water, and he even drank some. What a pleasant cat! A truly enjoyable visit. When I heard the landlady calling him, I had to pick him up and bring him to her balcony.

I miss having a pussy cat to nuzzle. To feed, to play with, clean up after, brush, dunt faces with.

I need more purring. I've had a cat in my life, all my life. Sometimes up to three at once. I not only love cats, I'm like them in many ways. For example, I don't like large places that are full of noise and people. I prefer calm quiet rooms, with one or two people I can watch carefully from a safe distance before I decide whose lap I'm going to jump into, so to speak.

I can also take a nap at any time of the day or night, no matter how recently I woke up. Come to think of it, I can usually eat pretty much any time day or night, as well, irrespective of how recently I've dined! Hmm. I hate getting wet, love to sun myself on a rock, and I have a bit of an ornery streak in me. Maybe there is something to this reincarnation business, after all! That, or perhaps not all humans evolved from apes - perhaps my origins are feline.

It would certainly explain my feelings about most of the rest of "humanity".