Lessons from a cat nap

I've been feeling a bit rough recently. Mid-winter does that for a lot of people I think. I love winter. I don't wish it gone, really. But there's still that feeling of interminable dark and cold that drags along the soul and makes one long for more sun and warmth and a green landscape.


Recent events haven't improved that feeling. I'm still working to come to terms with my friend's death, a process that logically I know takes time but at the moment feels like it may never end. Several people I know have been going through similar difficulties, and no one wants to see friends in pain like that. I should be positive and cheerful online, I see that everywhere, but sometimes events conspire that make it a very difficult attitude to attain.

I've been trying to think of something I can write about that's not a depressing litany of what's wrong, what's awful, what's terrible right now. I've spent the last couple of days working on it, and was almost at the point of chucking the post for this week out the window. I figured I'd have a coffee this morning, watch something interesting on Netflix, do some housework, and contemplate further before giving up.

My husband had left Netflix up at the Documentaries page. Looking through, I found on one American cemeteries that had been produced by PBS. It seemed appealing, and light, and relatively upbeat as the description was more about the life of cemeteries than the deaths of their inhabitants.

As I watched, my cat Toby decided to jump up on me for some attention. Toby is a recent addition to our household, having come home with us at the end of March last year. He'd spent at least a year in various Humane Societies before that, and has definite limits on how much attention he wants at a time. Usually he jumps up, wants a few minutes of petting, then takes off to sleep by a heater or to chase after  our other cat for a while.

Today, though, Toby curled up on my chest and fell asleep.

It was a long, solid nap, the kind that only a cat can achieve. The documentary ended, and still Toby slept. I didn't want to disturb him. So I started a video about the New York Public Library system... not because I have a particular interest, but because I could move the cursor that far and start the video without moving the cat.

Toby slept through a good chunk of that program as well. I learned a lot about the NYPL, which has a very interesting system for finding and delivering requests to its patrons.

Finally, something stirred that Toby heard, found interesting, and jumped off to hunt.

My coffee had long gone cold. I was half asleep myself, since Toby was so warm he'd started to suck me into his nap (as a heavily sleeping cat will do). I was thoroughly enthralled by the history of a library system that was way more massive than I'd ever believed possible.  All in all, it had been a quietly enjoyable hour.

I feel much better now, more rested. I'm glad that I was forced to be still, and watch something I wouldn't have chosen otherwise, and just relax for the first time in a few weeks.

Sometimes things have to be done. Sometimes you have to push forward no matter what.

Sometimes, you really don't.

It's a good thing we have cats around to remind us of this, and force us to stop, and just do nothing.