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What Henry Knows

Writer's picture: Feef MooneyFeef Mooney

Henry James doesn't seem to mind Quarantine. As an indoor pet, he's lived in it all of his life.

When we adopted Hen (then known as "Perrywinkle") we had to sign a contract stating that we would NEVER: 1. Declaw him 2. Let him outside.

I never really minded that, selfishly craving a constant companion.

But Henry is his own entity. He owns the house. He's made every room suit his needs.

He has the dining room window for his TV.

He's a football (soccer) player with a specific purple ball, which he uses to play run, fetch and deliver, from living room, to bedroom to study to bathroom.

He has a routine. A 5:30am wake-up breakfast call. Naptime is through the day, on paperwork, next to the computer, or at the back of the office chair where you sit, scooting up, to give him space.

He goes to his toilet when you are on yours.

He eats dinner when we eat dinner.

He vigorously uses his scratch pad when he needs you to know he wants play time.

He sleeps hard, dreams, makes noises and his whiskers twitch.

Henry chatters when he sees birds, squirrels. He is obsessed with Calico, the feral cat next door. She is the star of his reality TV show.

But Henry knows nothing about the news. Donald Trump. Protests. Black Lives Matter. Special police forces in Portland. People who wear masks. People who refuse to wear masks. Sick people. Exposed people. Dying people. Wars. People who are going hungry. Children who suffer.

How many times have I wished I could be Henry. Just to be fed. Sleep. Play. Poop. Dream. Watch.

Be loved.

Can't I, in quarantine, just have the consciousness of a house cat?

Stil, I suspect Henry James knows more than I think he does.

If I am sick, curiously, he doesn't leave my side.

If there is yelling in the house, he hides. He wants no part in any conflict.

Fireworks kept him under the sofa every night for a month.

Maybe in my next life, I will be a talking, purring, happy cat in a home where people fawn all over me. But for now, I am a caretaker. I have to keep the peace, get things done, know what is going on, and do my part in the household, in the world, in my musical community. I'm doing it.

When I get overwhelmed and wonder how long this pandemic will last, and feel sad about who and what I miss, I look at my cat.

"The cat is cool," I say to myself, reminding myself that, like Henry, self-care is where all good things start, no matter what is going on outside these doors and windows.

Be good to yourself, and your pets. Though apart, we really are in this whole thing together!




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