A WEE CAT IN THE WEE HOURS

I have been on a “guilt trip” today. (Yeah, I have).

I have previously written about a particular experience which occurred a few years ago. My wife and I decided to drive over to Cedar Island, a journey of a couple of hours, and spend the night in one of numerous bungalows on the island.

And since it was my habit to peddle my bicycle ten miles a day, but since I didn’t bring my bike with me, in the wee hours of the next morning, while it was still pitch black outside, I “wenta walkin.”

There is a causeway of sorts which runs the length of the island, and which includes a couple of bridges. And since our bungalow was located on the northern tip of the island, and the small town of Cedar Key was on the southern tip of the island, and there was a mile or two which separated the two ends of the island, it was convenient for me to get some exercise in before the sun peeked above the horizon.

In the space of forty-five minutes, I had journeyed as far as I possibly could, (since I had not then, nor now learned to walk on water). There were a few restaurants, one or two hotels, and a museum on this side of the island. (We had eaten at one of the restaurants the day before, and spent some time in the museum).

After I walked out on a nearby pier, and “taken a gander” at the bay, I decided it was time to turn around and head back to our bungalow.

Pt. 2

I was about halfway back to my destination, as I approached a small bridge. It was then that I saw it. I say “it” since I am unsure whether the animal was a male or a female. (However, for the sake of this story I will refer to the little thing as a “he”).

Twenty feet prior to reaching the bridge a yellow kitten blocked my pathway. (And he didn’t seem in any hurry to escape the threatening feet of a large stranger). As I reached the small cat, I bent over and stroked the non-descript creature.

Suddenly, the little fella laid his head on my right foot. It was more than obvious that the precious critter wanted to go with me, as if he realized that his chances “on the outside” weren’t all that favorable, (but that his chances “on the inside” would be geometrically better).

Now I spoke.

“I’m sorry little one. I can’t take you with me.”

(and)

“I’m a long way from home, and I just can’t do it.”

Having stroked the small creature for a couple of minutes, and having said all there was to say, I stood up and continued my trek back to my bungalow.

And although I have regretted that I could not offer any more comfort than I did to the little feline, I have never experienced any guilt about the incident

… until today.

Did I say I don’t especially like cats? (Well, I don’t). Did I mention that one of the major reasons I don’t want one in my house is the necessity of a litter box? (Well, it is).

However, in spite of my bias towards dogs, (and prejudice against cats) I am sensitive to the needs of all animals, and actually pray for all of the stray animals of the world on a daily basis.

 Afterward

But to return to my original theme. I was feeling guilty yesterday; guilty about not picking that little kitten up, walking her to our bungalow, and driving home with him.

I can’t account for it. I have no idea where those emotions came from. And as a rule, I don’t do anything worth feeling guilty about, and I don’t take those trips on a proverbial time machine.

It helps to reframe the experience. Reframe – to put a different spin, or interpretation or outcome on an old story.

I like to think that someone else came along that morning, or afternoon, or evening, bent down, stroked the kitten, and did what I didn’t do. He or she picked up the small creature and walked away with him.

It helps me to think that way.

by William McDonald, PhD

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Afterward

But to return to my original theme. I was feeling guilty yesterday; guilty about not picking that little kitten up, walking her to our bungalow, and driving home with him.

I can’t account for it. I have no idea where those emotions came from. And as a rule, I don’t do anything worth feeling guilty about, and I don’t take those trips on a proverbial time machine.

It helps to reframe the experience. Reframe – to put a different spin, or interpretation or outcome on an old story.

I like to think that someone else came along that morning, or afternoon, or evening, bent down, stroked the kitten, and did what I didn’t do. He or she picked up the small creature and walked away with him.

It helps me to think that way.