I am the Center, Because I am a CAT...

Dear Friends;

What I had thought was going to be a simple blog has morphed into something else entirely different all together. I was planning on recounting my Western Crown experience and yet, I have discovered that my brain has run off in another direction and left the rest of me having to decide if I will follow or flee while the coast is clear and I have the chance I follow My body is rather fond of my brain

I had a Dear Friend awhile back, who had the gumption to compare me to a cat. This was not possible to me, and I protested greatly at the time.

I think cats are lovely creatures, each one a sleek, unique wild thing. Something to admired and respected from a goodly distance as they have sharp claws and teeth and are not afraid to wield their weapons upon whomever they so deign as unworthy of their graces.

I am actually quite afraid of cats. I was attacked by them as a child and have never quite had the adult part of my brain convince the childish memories that it really was a circumstantial event that had transpired.

I have several friends that have cats, and for some unknown reason, they all like me. They seem to desire the close contact of my legs or lap. They prefer where I am sitting to all others, and if I find that I am sleeping over, the cat invariably ends up insisting that it share my bed. And let me tell you my Dear Friends, this has been the unknown explanation for many dark circles under my eyes when I stay over.

But I got off on another tangent I was going to tell you about this feline comparison that my Dear Friend had made.

We were talking about a variety of subjects and of course the conversation wound itself around to where it usually did The people that we were dating, or were interested in, or no longer interested in, and so forth Instead of his usual inquiries and good advice, my Dear Friend looked at me and stated rather bluntly that I was just like a cat. No preamble, just, "You know, you are just like a cat". Of course I protested greatly. To no avail. He simply shook his head and stood up. And thus began the short stand up routine of Aislinn the Cat.



You want love on your terms. Your terms only. It does not matter what someone else wants It must still be solely your terms. Not now. You may not love me now. No No Wait, now you may love me. Hello I said you may love me now. Love Love Wait No I don't want you to love me right now That is more than enough. But you may look at me. Admire from a distance. Keep looking That's right Keep looking. Wait. Don't look. Why aren't you looking? Admire. Just further back. Too close. Perfect. Admire me. Dote upon me. Care for me But don't touch. Okay You may touch. But not that way, and not there, here. Wait I changed my mind You may look. I know you love me I am so wonderful that you must love me. Everyone loves me. Why does everyone insist on loving me? It is so disruptive to my grooming and pampering and lounging about in the sunshine and dining on fine food and sleeping on soft surfaces That's right. They have to love me. It is something that they cannot help. So then Love me from over there Ahhh! Stop. Stay. Wait. Okay You may continue to love me Sorry That was not good enough But you You over there Pretending not to see me You may love me. Ohhh you love me Attention please A little more. No. Too much You You over there Love me Oh who needs them I love myself and I have the basking of sunshine to occupy my time Shhhh do not disturb the glorious basking. Shhhh. You can wait. You can wait until I am ready for you to love me



Now I do think that this is a bit exaggerated. But in many ways true. I refuse anyone to get to close to me. But I do enjoy the company of others. I do like to have lavish things showered upon me, but only when I think that it is acceptable and appropriate. And I do not like my freedom smothered. I think that good personal care is very important, and that everyone needs time to bask in the warmth and glory of their environment. And who doesn't want love and attention on their terms?

The one thing that I can see being true, is that I seem to always land on my feet. I am able to walk a very fine line, and have gotten very good at the fine art of balancing. On the rare occasions that I miss-judge the distance or depth of my leap, I am excellent at making the discovery mid-soar, and completing the necessary adjustments before the ground comes looming ever closer. Then tah dah. On my feet. I meant to do that. I meant to have tie-died garb with giant brown splotches for Pensic. I meant to have the mail carrier for our route changed. I meant to clean my windshield with soft Day-Glo pink panties. I did.

And that my Dear Friends is how life goes on for me. One stand up routine at a time. Blown out of proportion, but still containing within a small piece of truthful insight delivered at the hands of Dear Friends. One smile leading into peals of laughter, fits of giggles, and bellyaches of chuckles and guffaws. Which is exactly how I like it. After all it is on my terms And my terms are pleasure, delight and exuberance and excess

The biggest irony of all, is that I have a cat. Well sort of. I have the shared experience of a polyamorous stray that has decided she loves me, and therefore resides in my backyard from time to time. She prefers the afternoon sun and solitude that the unused yard provides. That I feed her gourmet cat food is a plus.

She is exactly the cat I would have selected if I were to choose from all the varieties available, and that too is funny. She is a long hair kitty of extreme diminutive stature. She has tufted ears and blue eyes. She has a creamy white underside and a barely noticeable tiger-striping pattern in soft tan and silver gray. She is very pushy and likes to climb up my body so that she can share my breath and rub her face against mine. My kitty-lover friends have told me that the rubbing of her drool on my skin is a sign of great endearment, but I tend to think that she is just using me as a napkin. And for some unknown reason, she has chosen me, and I have come to adore her for it.

I have given her a name that I think is rather fitting, though I am sure that she has several names being the type of creature that she is. Sound familiar and fitting my Dear friends? I call her Holly Golightly. I thought it to be rather appropriate. Especially as I am apparently a cat myself



Let me also take this time to point out several other women who have been compared to or referred to as cats. In an artistic, musical, or literary sense of course

Maggie the Cat, from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof
Catherine Zeta Jones, as the Cat Burglar in Entrapment
Cat Woman, in the Batman comic book series
Josie and the Pussycats
The Pussycat Dolls
Cat, from the children's book: The bluebird/ The Bluebird of Happiness
Bast, the Egyptian cat goddess
Pussy Galore, from James Bond Movie, Goldfinger