Nights with Rogan

I wish I was good at taking pictures of my pets. But even if I were, I wouldn't be able to take a picture of the feline slinky that is my new cat, Rogan, at night. And cats are so hard to capture while they are relaxed and before they give you that evil glare.

Rogan is a long, lanky teenager. He is all of six pounds for all his length, so when I pick him up, it's amazing how light he is. Like most male teenagers, he can't eat often enough. He is pretty convinced he needs to eat every two hours. On the weekends, I give him many lectures on patience. But, because he's so into food, he is easy to teach tricks! He very quickly mastered standing up and reaching for the bowl before I put it down at night. Now, he'll stand up and tap my hand if I'm just holding a single piece of food. I'm working on teaching him to sit. I don't even have to use special treats - just his normal kibble works fine!

When I go to bed, he often jumps right up with me, and as soon as the light is out and I'm on my back, he delicately steps over the puffy down comforter to find my chest. At first, he stands on my, and I rub his sides and pet l-o-n-g strokes from his neck to his rump. His purr is a big rumble. Then, he relaxes to sitting. I like this step to go quickly, as his front paws can put a bit too much pressure on me. But I rub his neck a lot - he loves the area below his collar to be rubbed - and keep on petting him. As I get sleepy and still my hands, he relaxes to laying fully down, his head only inches from my chin, and it feels so snuggly. I just end up cupping his sides with my hands and feeling him purring while I relax too.

It usually takes me about half an hour to fall asleep, and this process is a great way to get myself to relax and calm down. Sometimes, I actually fall asleep on my back with Rogan laying on top of me! But most of the time, after about 15 minutes, I roll over to my side slowly, holding him so he doesn't fall, and then let him go his way. Though sometimes, he jumps back up and balances himself on my side! One night, as he was perched on my side, he fully relaxed and set his chin on my shoulder. It was the sweetest moment. Wouldn't that have been such a fun picture?!

I don't usually feel him again all night, though he's usually somewhere on the bed curled up.

BUT, as soon as the alarm goes off, he begins pattering over me and across me and putting his face very close to me and mewing, and sometimes, even tapping my face very quickly and very gently with one paw ''hello? Food? Remember food? let's go!''

He's pretty put out when I hit the snooze button.

And once I get up, the urgency hits a much greater level. I usually head straight to the bathroom, so he keeps up his routine of coming in and out of the bathroom, unable to sit still, urgently mewing and murmuring for food.

Luckily, he doesn't have a loud or piercing meow. I talk back with him, and finally feed him, and he tackles his dish like he's been starving. Then, he's happy as a clam, perched on the arm of a stuffed chair where he can look out the window, his morning post.

It's so good to have a cat in one's life. A good cat. A sweet cat with tilted up green eyes, who is all pink and orange and white. Who will one day learn to love having the base of his ears kissed, where the fur is sooooo soft and warm and tender.

My Meg

My Meg is gone.
My sweet orange girl.
Her thick fur,
with it's distinctive tabby dots and dashes,
I loved to rub and bury my face against
The special warm clean scent of that coat in the sunshine.
Her baby soft ears, and the base of them where I'd kiss her.
Those keen clear green eyes, trying to avoid a direct gaze.
All her meows I knew so well.
Her kissing rasping tongue on my fingers in our early morning cuddle.
The insistent but gentle head butt when she wanted me to get out of bed already.
Those petal pink too delicate paws,
holding up that triangle of body mass
incongruously
Twelve years.
Twelve years I've read her,
learned her,
pulled her out of her shell,
moved her state to state to state and house to apartment to room
made her roommates with so many
other
people
and made her share my attention with first,
one bird,
then my boy, Sean,
and then one more bird.
She'd avoid the birds
to avoid getting tempted to stalk them.
Her chattering at things outside,
perched in a window,
all that round plumpness,
somehow steady in the narrow sill.
Her easy jump up on the bed
and settle down next to my pillow,
curved perfectly to fit my arm,
my face pressed against her warm side,
breathing her peace and absolute coziness in
hoping it would come to rest in my own soul.
My Megamous. My Nutmeg. My baby girl.
I miss you, sweet girl.
I miss kissing your nosy. When you acted like you hated it.
I miss your head pushing against my hand, getting me to scratch your chin.
I miss talking back and forth to your mews.
I miss you being lost under the covers,
a summer cocoon of color and oh so dreamy under there,
but never so adorable as fluffed under the eiderdown
in winter.
I miss you, my Meg.
I'll always miss you.
And I'll have the bittersweet joy
of seeing you
in my dreams.