Our old Siamese cat slowly saunters over to the patch of morning sunlight streaming in from the window. Her dainty black paws make no noise on the tile floor of our kitchen. She stretches; arching her back and making every hair on her body stand up straight. While stretching she yawns. It’s a big yawn that shows all of her sharp milky white teeth and her rough pink tongue. When she’s done with her stretch she sits down in the warm sun light. She is still for awhile, her large blue eyes closed in the bright sunlight. The light makes every hair on her dark face stand out. After the short pause she begins to methodically clean herself, in same routine she has done all her life, the way she was taught by her mother. She starts with the ears, then the whiskers, next her back, and lastly her rear. Between each deliberate lick she pauses, the hair on her back twitches, and then she goes back to licking. This goes on until she is satisfied that any loose clusters of hair, dirt, or other form of debris that may have accumulated in her fur is all gone and that she is totally clean. Once she is done with her bath she shifts her weight from paw to paw several times until she is comfortable. She then heaves a big sigh of contentment and rests in the warmth of the sun. Her sleek black tail, usually acting like a different animal in constant movement, is totally still. She has curled it in front of her, wrapping it around her two front paws. My little sister runs by, her feet pounding on the floor. The cat opens her eyes passively only to quickly look down, squinting in the bright light. My brother then goes by chasing after my sister. She looks up again, this time slightly annoyed by the ruckus. She yawns again and closes her eyes for a third time when suddenly a stool is knocked by the commotion. This is too much for the cat. She stands up and stalks away displaying her displeasure and tries to find a more peaceful place to rest.
May 11, 2009