Rainy day

It's my first rainy day indoors in a long, long time. It is good to be indoors.

I explore the garage, all the strange-smelling boxes and containers. I climb the jungle-gym of the sink and the washing machine and the toolbox. I sniff under the garage door at the cold, wet smells coming in from outside.

I become a statue on the arm of the couch, prim and snug, lost in thought for long moments with long memories of rain.

I sleep on the cat tree, listening to the rain. I think about listening to it without having to feel it on me.

I lay in my mom's lap, sharing it with her laptop, within the embrace of her arms on either side, the keyboard going clickety-clack, clickety-clack.

I rest my paw on her arm. She pets my head and strokes my nose gently. I purr and snuggle closer.

I reach up and knead on her arm. She says, "You are a beautiful girl. You are a beautiful cat. You are a beautiful soul. I hope you know that."

I do. And so is she.

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