Monday, August 8, 2011

Compassion


I am on watch.  Tomorrow - a week since my youngest cat dragged herself into the house with deep punctures in her back, near the spinal cord.  She is a hunter.  She is territorial.  She has no business bugging the bigger cats two doors down.  She is a creature of nature.  Now, half-shaved, half asleep, half paralyzed, she waits for the pain to subside enough to be interested in food again, enough to saunter into my office mid-morning to check on my progress, let me know she's having a leisurely day, just saving energy for the mice and possums that must be dealt with under a half-moon.

I can only check in on her, give her the yucky, pink medicine prescribed by the vet who had the kindness to come to us (as opposed to crating her up and sitting impatiently in a fear-laden waiting room).

There is only one thing. Love. Bending, petting, cradling. I am grateful this week for the individual relative comfort I can provide. Here, love, here in my meditation chair (not lost on me) is safety, is a warm, fuzzy shawl and a hand you can press your forehead into.

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