I wonder if my cat hates my job every bit as much as I hated my mother’s profession? How many times have I said to Joe Schmoe, “Here I come?” but made him wait a long time in dead silence? How many times have I sworn to take a break? “Really, here I come.” Sometimes he looks lonely. I worry he feels ignored just like I did.
Instead of papers and pencils it’s paint brushes and canvas.
I enjoy brushing Joe and chatting at him. The aides adore him and take over loving on him; and I let them. When they leave it goes back to being me and him in silence.
He’s sleeping in bed with me again. He sleeps by my head, curled up, back to me, in silence. It’s always so quiet in here.
I’m at the table, back to Joe. Right now I can only hear the trickle of the waterfall in the Betta tank. Ah, but what is this? Joe has turned the tide? He came to sit beside me and break being apart in silence. He kissed my hand and lay beside me. I’ve got to go. There’s no way I can do anything but spend a few moments with him just as he is asking.
My heart is smiling. The day has been given a great gift.
Faith Magdalene