Everyone, almost without exception, tells me I should get another cat when the time is right.   I am almost inclined to agree, maybe.   But any cat I bring into my life again will have to be a strictly indoor cat because I am not carrying another much loved pet back to the front porch with a broken body. So what kind of life can I offer an indoor cat?   Well, I have a house of my own, and it has three levels and lots of space to run around and find places to lounge in.   But it gets little direct sunlight into it because of the Japanese maples out front, and the aluminum awnings a previous owner put over the windows.   I could put some places up by all the windows for it (her…it would probably be another her) to lounge on and watch the world outside go by. But I would hate to think I was keeping it (her) imprisoned. There’s a reason you can’t keep a cat confined indoors once it’s had the taste of the outdoors.   A life confined indoors would disturb me.   But I can’t be picking up another broken body off the street.

The worst of it though is…it’s just me living there.   I go to work.   I go here and there when I’m not at work.   For a walk when I need it.   In my car when I need that.   Cat’s don’t do cars very well.   Neither do most motels.   The cat would be by itself a lot, and taken care of by a stranger who comes by just long enough to feed it (her) and clean the litter box when I’ve gone on vacation somewhere.   It just wouldn’t be fair.   I take your love and affection and then I leave you alone whenever it’s something I need to do.

It isn’t that another cat wouldn’t be good for me.   Claudia’s love convinced me I need companionship more than I’d thought. I’ve been searching for my other half since I was a teenager in first love, and telling myself that I’d rather be alone then fake it with Mr. For Tonight or Mr. Good Enough.   But alone is more damaging than I’d really realized.   It isn’t that another cat wouldn’t be good for me.   It’s would I and my life be good for a cat.   At least Claudia had the world outside the house too.

Walking up the front steps to Casa del Garrett I hear the familiar sound of my shoes crunching over spent shells from one of my bird feeders.   Crunch, crunch, crunch…up the steps, then into the house.   Once inside, I start up the steps to the second floor.   I notice the crunching sound is still happening.   I take the steps a little slower and listen carefully.   Crunch, crunch, crunch…

The sound is coming from my right knee, which has been feeling a little stiff lately.   Oh Foo.