My two critters often get cameos on my account so I thought I'd give them a little spotlight. The first is my muse, Thumbs (she has extra toes), and the second is my little gentleman Gary. I've had them for roughly 14 years, so we've been through a lot together. We've been in and out of multiple relationships. We've moved 4, 5, 6 times. We've shared our space with dogs, guinea pigs, rabbits, fish, a goat, a Furby, fake cows and an array of other organisms living or otherwise. Yet despite all the upheavals and turmoil, they've been the most consistent thing in my life. I know I take it for granted sometimes when I come home from work and just collapse in bed; Gary butting his head into mine, asking for a head scratch; Thumbs guffawing for attention/treats/more attention/possibly more treats. I cherish this. And when their time comes I will have two feline shaped holes in my heart. And I know I've given them a good and happy life. Yet in some ways I feel that they have given me more. They've taught me a lot about love. That it is often found in those mundane, quotidian moments. It is subtle and it is persistent. And if you stop for a second you'd see all the love that surrounds you. I used to think I rescued these two critters, but I'm starting to think it's the other way around.
He planted his seat on an empty street corner and played his tune to an ethereal crowd. I watched from a distance as he finished his song, eyes opened slow and dreamy, as if stirred from a trance. He searched the scene of aimless travelers with a calm indifference, searching for what, I'll never know. One deep breath; a sigh. Release. The violin resumed its perch beneath his neck. Eyes closed, he proceeds. Filling the air with tender music for those few willing to listen. Thank you sweet minstrel. Tonight this song was for me.
