Life’s a mystery

Mini Scaredy is so attached to me, it’s a little weird. She waits for me to show up every night. Sleeps along side me all night long. And hangs out with me all morning. Right up until I pack up and leave. Then watches, forlornly, as I walk off down the trail. No doubt thinking: “I will miss you so much while you’re gone. But it’s probably a good thing. Because you need to go downtown and get a fresh supply of cat food to bring back to me.” Ha ha.

And she’s fiercely jealous and possessive if any of the other feral cats try to get close to me. When I go down the trail to feed the other cats, when I come back, she’ll sniff me and give me this hurtful look, like: “I can smell the scent of that other bitch on your clothes!! Explain yourself, man!!”

Sometimes I look at her when she’s lying beside me, and I’ll wonder: “What is this creature??” This cat. She’s largely a mystery to me. I’m a mystery to myself, after all. Life is a big old mystery when you really come down to it.

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