The Conversation…

“You haven’t been around lately,” yawned the cat.

“Been busy?” she said, digging in her tote bag, getting the cat food out.

“Doing what?”

“I don’t know.  A lot of things I guess.”

“I’ve noticed something.”

“Really?” she said.  “What?”

“I was in a bookstores the other day and realized that the author’s name, on many of the covers of novels, is bigger than the title.  Not all of them, but enough for me notice, as I said.”

“I’ll have to look next time.”

“I’m sorry about RBG. Cats loved her, you know.”

“No, actually.  I didn’t know that.”

“Well we did, and still do.  She was small but fierce.”

“She was amazing and loved by many.”

“Good role model.”

“The best.”

“I noticed something else,” said the cat, licking the sardines.

“Okay.  What?”

Humans are being driven insane by details.  You measure how many steps you take.  You monitor everything.  Measure everything.  You think about everything you do.  Am I too nice, not nice enough, am I this or that, do I pay enough attention to whatever, or should I pay more attention something else.  You don’t actually live, you spend your lives thinking about living. Thinking about how to live, rather than just doing it.  You imagine there’s a right way to do it, a better way, some magical construct that you can make happen by counting or contemplating something.  No other species does that.  You just drive yourselves crazy and then wonder why you’re all mad.  You have no idea how to exist and just be.”

“Yes.  I know.”

“And?”

“And what?  It’s true. You’re right.  We are completely insane and we don’t live, we think about living and we measure living and we read about living and we wonder if we are living and if we’re happy, or not happy, or too happy, or not happy enough and should we feel guilty about being happy when so many people are suffering, blah, blah, blah.  I try not to think about any of it.  There’s no way to know anything anyway, so it’s all pointless and everyone is making up what is enough and what’s not as they go along because no one actually knows what they’re doing.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Most definitely,” she agreed.  “I’ve rarely ever done things I didn’t want to do.  Seems like a waste of time.  Never made sense.”

“So you’ve marched to a different drummer?” asked he cat.

“More like an alto sax, but yes.”

“Did you pay a price for it?”

“Other people thought I did but, no.  Never.  You have to care about what other people think, for what they think to have any meaning in your life. I never cared about what anyone else thought.”

“Anyone?”

She thought for a moment.  “Mmmm…not that I can think of.”

“No broken hearts?”

“Oh, no.  One always has to be okay as they are.  I’m always ready to walk away from anyone.  Never a problem.  As the saying goes, you just put one foot in front of the other.”

“No one ever broke up with you?”

“No, why?”

“Just wondering.”

“I fell in love and so did he.  We were together until he died.”

“What about miracles?”

“What about them?”

“Do you believe in them?” asked the cat, washing his face.

“Not really.  Why?  Do you?”

“Only in the sense that your species is still alive, multiplying and killing everything.”

“I get that,” she said.  “Sorry.”

“The world is a mess because of you.”

“Big time.”

“Do you think you’ll all die?”

“Eventually.  But I doubt it will be soon enough to save others.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

She laughed.  “Admit it, you’d miss me.”

The cat rolled onto his back.  “There are no sardines in the lake, so yes.  I would.”

“Good enough,” she said.

“Are you depressed about what’s happening?”

“Mmmm, more like furious.  But that’s depressing because there’s nothing to do with my fury.  Nothing works anymore.”

“I think you’re going to have to wear a mask forever.”

“Maybe,” she said.  “We acclimate quickly.  Well, some of us do.”

“Did you ever fall in love again?”

“No.  Why?”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t want to.”

“So you just made up your mind not to?”

“Yes.”

“If you lost your shoes, you’d get another pair,” said the cat.

“Not the same thing,” she laughed.

“No.  I guess not.”

“Why are you so interested in all of this stuff, anyway?”

“He gets like that after he’s been in a bookstore,” sad Jinx, bumping into her calf.  “All the titles and pictures make him start thinking about things he normally wouldn’t be thinking about.”

“I see,” she said, running he hand down his back.  “Do you believe in love, Jinx?”

“Sometimes,” he purred.  “I like to keep an open mind.”

“That’s the best way to be,” she said, kissing him.

“How about you?” he asked.  “Do you believe in love?”

“Not anymore.  Everything dies in the end.”

“Hard to argue with that,” said the cat.  “So you’d rather live without it than…”

“…have to say goodbye?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Definitely.  Can’t miss what you don’t have, kind of thing.”

“Ah,” said Jinx. “I can understand that.  But you love me,” he said.

“Yes,” she agreed, kissing him again.  “I love you so very much.”

“But I’ll break your heart,”  he said.  “I’m sorry.”

***

“I think she’s crying,”  said Jinx, watching her walk away.

“Yeah,” said the cat.  “She loves us a lot.  She didn’t factor that in when she built the wall around her heart.  She forgot and left the cat flap open.”