Worst Cat Parent EVER

Lately, I've been having horrendous problems with my little orange Stu-guy. He is unhappy, unsatisfied and forever searching for .... something. I thought, for months, he was in search of more food. And I wondered how could a cat who gets fed ten cans of fancy feast, with three different kinds of crunchies always available, be THIS hungry all the time? 

Yesterday, I took the day off. I overslept and I knew I would get to work and want a do-over. You can't have a do-over so I just stayed home. So I made it part of my day's mission to figure out what to do to make Stuart happy.

And you know what?

It was easy. He wanted attention. I brushed him and played with him and he was happy. He went and ate his favorite crunchies under the side board after our play session and then went to sleep somewhere. He was laying in wait in the evening, hunkered down under the coffee table, so we played some more. And again, he was happy.

And my daughter thought the whole playing with him thing was pretty rad too. She giggled and squealed and "look at him playing!" She dangled toys intrusively close to him and he loved that too. So what in the world is wrong with me? Why in the eff did I not think to PLAY with my cat? GAH, I feel AWFUL. 

I stole this cat to heal my broken heart, and for the past six months two years I have been ignoring his little needs. I know I had a baby and that was a bit of a culture shock to me, but what about him? I mean really. I felt about two inches high yesterday. I've been throwing food at him and wondering why that doesn't satisfy him. Well, duh, he doesn't want food in the first place. 

But at least I know now and can correct my erroneous behavior. I have a date with my orange guy today! 

hmmm.....

I haven't had a lot to say lately (read: anything) but that isn't because life isn't good. I think it's because life is SO good. I love these long hot summer days, the sound of thunder and the rain as it falls from the sky, afternoons spent plucking dandelions from the 

Happiness cannot be measured in words or pictures and sometimes I think, instead, it is measured in the opposite way, the lack of words or pictures. The moments, just soaked up as they come, organically and freely. Freedom comes in those moments that are free of all the accouterments we attempt to label them with: good, bad, okay, fine, awful, etc. Just living and breathing, failing to label, no, refusing to label, that's where the good stuff lies. 

Days melt into weeks and weeks into months....the decades disappear like sinking ships but we perservere, god gives us strength but we still fear what we don't know. The mind is poison. (credit: The Killers, Day and Age, Dustland Fairytale.)

I'm in the middle of a renovation of sorts, reevaluating things in life, re purposing  reusing, purging. I'm looking to find peace within my restless soul and seeking happiness within the life I already have. My life is perfect and sometimes I take that for granted  as I seek endlessly for something other than what I have. The grass is always greener kinda think. And yet, it's not. My grass is as green as grass gets. 

Where is this going? I'm not exactly sure. I'm apologizing for the self-imposed hiatus/absence around here and I'm not sure when it will end. It's sort of a hermitage, isolating myself from everything and....just....breathing. Redirecting and deciding where I want all of this to go. 

Written by Heather Sullivan. All images and writings copy right 2013.