[17] On Marriage and living phone-free
I don't think I'll write about marriage, or getting married for that matter. Or living phone-free. But I've missed writing in general and it's been a whole year since I got to.
So, today, I resume.
It seems my life is full of "resumes", and I like to think it's because I'm living in sync with my rhythm instead of my routine. So here we are again, looking at the cats for inspiration on what to write.
(They said I should focus on what's in front of me. Here's goes. Done is better than perfect.)
I'm waiting for our friend, and I'm writing as I do. Shepard's Pie on the menu tonight. The Husband is cooking intently and looks like he's enjoying it. The cats are having awkward interactions, as usual. It's about to be a full house this evening now that Doughnut is back.
Doughnut was (forcibly) returned to us last week. Her adoptive mom left to start her human family leaving our favourite vagrant all by her lonesome. Apparently she was howling outside the flat next door, looking for her favourite parent. Now, we're not ugly to Doughnut nor do we deprive her of feasts or toys; we simply give treats in moderation. Like normal people. About two years ago, little Doughnini went exploring and got caught in the Cape storm for almost two weeks. During this adventure, she met her Other Mom, who fell in love with her instantly and managed to organise wet food (a Treat) for the starving cat. Doughner, now a vagrant, took a shine to this treatment just as quickly and decided to move out.
I wasn't heartbroken or anything. The opposite, in fact. (I lie) In the time she was gone, our Local Orange, Panini, was enjoying the peace and quiet and unfettered access to all the food. But, as all good things do, her joys gave way to Cat depression and general grubbiness. She wasn't fond of other cats, and didn't make herself likeable either, so she ended up friendless, bored, and dirty. Literally.
Panini spent hours brooding on the dining table, hardly playing or grooming herself. She became thinner as she slowly gave up eating. The only time I saw her enjoy anything was her daily sit-downs in the sunshine from 14:00–14:45, when the sun shone directly onto the stone floors of our balcony. When the sun shone properly, anyway.
This was all too much for me. And for my poor husband who listened to me woefully explain what poor Ninibeany was going through.
Five years ago, I dreamt that I would have a black cat and call her Lacuna.
And this year, I made it come true. Enter Lacuna. Sleek little hellion who danced her way into my heart. (she was dancing on my head between 03:00–05:00 btw)
I was determined that Panini would have a friend to kick her out of whatever funk she was in. And boy did she.
Lacuna, not yet a full year old, quite literally jolted Panini out of sadness, but she did drag her into some very harsh light instead of the gentle sunshine she was used to. It was...loud. And very hissy. Spite seemed a better response to life instead of abject sadness, so we let the annoyance continue. (plus it was too late to give her back to the shelter.)
Now, seven months into bullying Panini, Lacuna now gets one more friend. A new big sister. A new playmate? Let's see how it pans out.
P.S.: Marriage is lovely, because we make it so. And living phone-free is not easy, so I've opted out of social media instead. I now forget my phone exists and it kinda feels like a privilege.