6:45 AM.
I’m awake. Of course I’m awake, I don’t need to be anywhere, the alarm clock next to my head ( and in my head ) has no assignment. I could sleep another hour at least.
But. I don’t.
Grayish blue light frames a square where I know our bedroom window is. Tree branches slant and sway outside.
‘There.’ I tell myself. ‘Look at that and listen to the wind. That will put you back to sleep.’
But. It doesn’t.
Hours later – or seconds, I open my eyes and there is a cat silhouetted in the window. Almost by magic. I can’t see how he got there but I know cats have their ways, plus there is a chair directly under the window. The cat’s name is Alex or Sam or MoJo – they all look alike, a nightmare of it’s own I’ll tell you but I think this one is Alex. Owlishly he swivels his head left and right as he considers the day before him.
Alex sees something in the yard that interests him, his ears twitch slightly and he rises just a little on his haunches. He shifts his position, two stories up looking through a thick piece of glass he’s not really going to be able to do anything about whatever it is he sees. But still he seems intent that he his going to do something, ‘He has a plan.’ I tell myself. ‘Cats always do.’