Dec 29 2009
Basking
It’s that feral cat again*.
Here’s Henrietta, relaxing on the duvet in the sunlight. The only thing better than the heater is sunlight in her world. Even when it’s cold outside, the California sun has its warmth.
This evening, she was cuddled up to me, and I petted her as I watched the final, heart-wrenching episode of the latest season of “Mad Men”. I wondered if she had ever dreamed of sleeping safely on a duvet on a couch, with the heater on and petting on demand, and a limitless supply of food. Or did she, in the dark, scary Oakland nights, wish for nothing but safety and warmth, and not sweat the small stuff?
When our journey started, I never imagined that she’d ever sit on my lap, or be so trusting. She’s come a long way in the mere two months that we’ve lived together.
On Christmas Eve, I spotted her sitting on a bench, basking in the sunlight. I rushed out to take a blurry picture of her before she moved:
I was so glad to see her feeling safe enough to go outside and enjoy the sun. As I watched her, I remembered how my father loved to feel the sun when he visited us from England, and recalled one particular Christmas Eve when it was warm enough to have a picnic on the beach at Point Reyes. Somewhere in The Boxes is one of my favorite pictures of Dad, taken that day as he strolled in the surf laughing, lifting his face up to the sun.
*I overheard one vet technician tell another one that when I brought Henrietta in the second time.