A Feline Advent

Like most women, I find this time of year exhausting: decorating, shopping, wrapping, writing cards, mailing packages, and cooking comprise endless (but joyful) chores. Plus everyone feels obligated to stage some event that will fail utterly if you do not attend. 

 But I am surviving (so far) because of one of my cats, Guinness. At least once a day, I spend about five minutes with this feline meditation tool. 

 Sometimes the moments happen when I am at the dining room table (when he jumps up onto the morning paper) or when I am at the computer (when he walks in front of the screen) or when I am addressing Christmas cards (when he sits on the greetings). 

 First, he climbs onto my shoulder. He stays there, purring, for a while then maneuvers around so he is lying upside down in my arms like an infant. Purring. 

 His tail modestly covers his privates. His hind legs contract and extend in ways that only mammals with excessive joints can bend appendages. His front paws bend charmingly. His golden eyes look deep into mine. 

 So of course I pet him, stroking his tummy, under his chin, on top of his head, and behind his ears. 

 He closes his eyes and purrs. 

And I don’t do anything else because it is not possible to do anything else. And nothing could be better for either of us – a few moments to just be. Together. With at least one of us purring. 

And the stillness settles as a blessing.