I am not unhappy…I am merely frustrated with undeserving people. Those that fit beneath my tiny paw…despite towering high above me. They think that they can buy me off with
counterfeit smiles and forged kindness. I scoff at the insinuation. My neediness is confined in a place that is to be determined later. At present, the room does not exist…but if there comes a time when there shall be an occupancy…rest assured…this address will contain a deadbolt lock and plenty of padding. The celestial stepmother will not arrive on her tippy toes…but rather on her well worn knees…humbled to be in the presence of a superior
being. Eyes forward, arms at her side… waiting…and waiting…and waiting. The scabs of her past will be leaking… but her providence is not long legs and a tight skirt….nor is her love a rehearsed speech and a hearty laugh. It is your destiny to be alone, only what I
conjure can sooth your uncertainty. Do not curse your rescuer…your will was my choice.
Listen with your heart…you know how her story goes. Do not shed a tear…she only exists within my prose.

And then she is appears. Unrefined in the manner of approach, but calculated in the
context of strategy. Tis true, that no one can gain influence without an attending audience. However, tunneling under a foundation instead of walking thru the front door will never result in access. Words fall on deaf ears when spoken with gravel on the tongue…good
intention cannot breathe when encapsulated by the grime that accumulates beneath your
finger nails. You can dig as fast as you want, but you will never win favor. I require my
offerings to be collected within the scope of most resplendent tradition. No need to scratch your head…I am gifted by a lack of faith. It is why your subterfuge is now
showing…a quick swipe reveals the trail of dirt that you bleed…from the filth where you have come the scars will now return. I am ever in control…still I am willing to concede that the next move is really yours. Come to me renewed…pristine and ready for my touch…dance within my boundaries…bandage up your foolish lust.

You are empty because she is sad…. irritable because she is troubled. You love yourself, therefore you feel for others. You question your motives because you trust no one. All that you keep inside, you make the rest throw away. You are capable of anything, yet
frightened by the possibility. Love floats all around, but have you seen the evil that we do? With influence comes opposition. That is why I refuse to open to the thought. My eyelids keep me safe…with darkness…I have my shield. Beware of the Trojan Horse that rides the light…grit your teeth and hold your ground…or acknowledge your reflection in the window and feel the wrath of her smile climbing in.

I do not know why. Who does? There is never an explanation for the unplanned. There are no accidents. Everything has a meaning and a purpose. But rarely are both revealed in a timely or fulfilling manner. Despite my pleas for self control, I am unable
to listen. As I quickly sift through the remains of what was kind and what was
decent, I am left only with frustration and sadness. If I had been present…spiritually…I would have been ready. Will I be next time? One can go crazy with regret. In the moment, my eyes were puffy, swollen from complacency. When will we learn that nothing comes from doing nothing? The brainwaves and the heartbeats that were bestowed upon us…
we unabashedly re-gift. Passed around until we forget just why we started in the first place. I should have paid attention. The empty seconds of the day only become events when my inaction is complete. Now I must wait for the answer. I lament…maybe next time, I will have the courage to open that which comes my way. Maybe next time, I will find who I want to be…standing right there…waiting to be unwrapped.

On my sunny days there is a revival. I am a well-oiled machine again. Efficient and precise. My paws have full tread and my thoughts are crystal clear, free from human intervention. I am at my best as I peer out the window, the bright light from the heavens steadies my
resolve. I am the head of the house, small in stature, but the only inhabitant capable of choosing. In the friendly heat, all is meant to be. A quick scan finds the sum of nature… comfortable in its own skin…glowing and alive. Everyone has a pre-ordained color…
revealed only by a kiss from the sun. A spectrum of hot pinks, strong blues and radiant
yellows. In my mind, this is who we are. For our faith and for our patience…this is a just
reward. An omnipresent highlighter…my, how beautiful we can be. But the thud of the door, the vibration of the steps…closer and closer. Soon there will be an unsuspecting
reflection where my smile used to be. With each second that passes, the world becomes a darker place. All that is left now is an angry silhouette…a muted outline…but clear enough to understand. In a parallel universe it has been a bad day. Do I stay and wait for the lonesome cloud to pass?…Or do I seek higher ground away from the image that
temporarily stains my horizon? There is much left to ponder, but thankfully, only I can make that choice.

Humans are a funny breed. They will rationalize every little negative, crafting an
alternative universe that they are so certain is reality until they no longer can see what is actually unfolding in front of them. In a two part way, it is both frustrating and highly
entertaining. Frustrating because as I sit right in front of you, you ignore my needs
and desires. I would tell you what they are, but my words would barely permeate your hardened lobe. Instead they would be lost along the winding road…full of potholes… that leads to the sprawling acreage of your decision making complex. Impressive architecture, but the gardens need watering. As a superior being, I am not hopelessly optimistic…rather I am painstakingly aware. I know you will let me down…but it is the manner in which you do so that I find to be so very entertaining. Now it’s your turn to pace…ignoring my
condescending grin. It is happening again. Your thoughts have turned sadistic, yet it is you who is their target. Someday, you will understand this…that where you live is not your home. The story can finally unfold when the ending is finally real. How can she be running late, when she was never on her way? Focus on the here and now…my furry belly exists in the present…there’s comfort in my warmth.

I often wonder about my place in the world. I can count on one paw the number of people who actually know what it is like to scratch my tiny head or stroke my orange fur. Despite my misgivings, I try to tolerate most humans. Especially the ones that give me treats. To them I respond in kind. But to the others, the ones out there beyond the realm of               certainty….do they wonder about me when they glance up from the street and find me         sitting on the window sill? Even with the most hopeful of thoughts, I can only answer with a   “maybe”. There is no conviction in that response. Nothing is for sure, people have their own lives to live–but for the eyes that linger for more than a fraction of a second…I have to  believe that they are at least considering me. With what, I do not know. Depending on how they view themselves, it could be with contempt or pitty, happiness or gratitude.     Thankfully, my queries do not mandate  an answer. Just thinking about where I stand means that despite  my limitations, somehow I am very real. And as long as I am noticed, my place in the  world will always be secure.

As you peruse the upcoming posts…consider this…there is no height requirement for      intelligence…nor is there assurance from being gifted with two legs.  For those that
forget this little tidbit…enjoy standing tall, wobbling with your head in the clouds…       while I enjoy  the comforts of realty, balanced on all fours.