Chiaroscuro And Cats

I see his shadow as he walks around the house, playing in the sunshine pouring through the open windows. He throws diffused light from his sandy fur, alternately brightening and darkening the ivory walls and honeyed hardwood floor. His footsteps, inaudible in the grass and sand of the outdoors, ring out here, reminding of his presence with a comforting rhythm. He knows just when to jump up next to me for a gentle smoothing of his fur, just how to turn so I will pet him at just the right angle, and how to bite gently enough so that I know he is not truly angry. He watches the sunrise each morning, and always greets me cheerfully with a chirp I am always pleasantly surprised to hear. He purrs for no reason: well, for no reason other than that he is perfectly content. He needs only food, water, space to hunt, and human interaction…anything else is wonderful and extraneous. A true minimalist, he can amuse himself with nothing more than light and the quiet noise of his own movement. Perhaps, though, he perceives more than I, myself, do: perhaps he sees further than the light show to the heart of not just this chiaroscuro, but to the heart of chiaroscuro, the true nature of light and shadow. And yet, how can a simple cat see to the heart of shadow and light? Perhaps, then, it is merely my imagination, placing human traits into the actions of a friendly, familiar cat, comforting myself in my lonely nature by granting him, in my mind, a nature similar to my own. As his head bumps my hand, though, I am reminded of a simple fact. As I gently scratch behind his ears and he stretches luxuriously, I remind him, “You are, indeed, still a cat, capable of anything a cat is capable of: but I am not sure of everything a cat is capable of, and therefore must continue to wonder.”

 A purr is my only response.