Little boxes

I began my morning trying to placate the cats. The catfood cupboard is bare. My fault entirely. Making myself leave the apartment, especially in winter, often develops into a major battle -- one I prefer not to wage.

I admit I ran out of catfood yesterday early enough to restock before dark. However, my refrigerator overflows with people food Pogo begs for any other time. Ham, hamburger, leftover meatloaf and his absolute favorite, chicken. So I figured I could delay the trip at least 24 hours.

I fed him ham and meatloaf yesterday. He gave his finicky approval. This morning I tried more ham. Humph. After following me around the kitchen voicing his displeasure, he finally decided I was not going to produce a can of catfood, and he ate the ham. Oh, did I mention the boys have unlimited access to dry catfood? that I am not out of it? That Satchmo will not eat people food? What does that tell you?

Now the boys hang close by, ready to run if I should head toward the kitchen. This time canned, please, please, please..........Sorry, boys. I intend to make a kittyfood run today.

My life seems mundane to me, but reading FB posts, I realize many people think the same about theirs. Which brings to mind the song Little Boxes. Pete Seeger does a good version.

Dude, today I mourn the conversations that will never happen. I mourn the losses for the people who will never get the chance to know what a brilliant person you were. I mourn the missed chances for you to be happy again.

I hope you have peace.

Later.