I have come to understand that Desi and Lucille are currently living their best life. Not only are there creatures big and small (deer, turkeys, chipmunks) roaming right outside the window for them to stare at, but they’re indulging in all manner of instinctual, I might say show-offy, hunting activities of their very own.

At last count D&I have set free five mice that have run out from under the sink, apparently the last entry point from the outside that hasn’t been filled in with foam. We’ve found two dead meeces that we weren’t home to catch&release before the felines finished them off, and last night (more like early this morning), we helped one escape D&L’s tag-team clutches as Dennis ran around the place with a pot while I served as emotional backup. Once the cats understood we weren’t all on the same side, they attempted their own corral team yet the critter disappeared into … I don’t honestly know … perhaps the bathroom closet where it’s currently still living? Perhaps down into the heating vent? Hopefully it made its way outside to communicate to its brethren to avoid this house on Merwin street. Maybe it’s in witness protection in a pile of leaves in Vermont.

Then there was the bird. I was on the phone attempting to set up my new health insurance last week (oh, marketplace, I both love and hate you in almost equal measure) and as the woman was attempting to sort through some of my information, the sound of relentless chasing was happening in the other room. When I stepped out, there was a dead bird in the middle of the dining room floor. Dennis found that the bulk of the crime had happened on our bed. Because of course it had. Boy cat had proudly brought in the bird through the cat doors from the catio and was attempting to teach us stupid humans what to do with winged things. As no one was paying attention, he did the job himself. Sister, unhappy at being left out of this monumental brother’s-first-bird moment dragged in some kind of low-level green bug (winged, small-ish) later that was still alive and which we grabbed and let go. I think she’s still mad at us.

So, yes, they’re living their natural lives, following instincts: chasing when it’s called for, napping when they feel like it, demanding all the things they want (food, human-operated playthings, under-chin and belly scritches). I’m studying this behavior for the human equivalent. I’m pretty sure there’s a parallel to not overthinking it and just infusing my life with a little cat energy. Taking a nap when I feel like it without any guilt. Eating a cookie when it cries out to me (so much easier to just open a package rather than having to chase it down, although packaging these days … am I right?), stepping up to Dennis for a hug and reaching out to all my pals for the verbal equivalent (or the real thing if I’m close enough).

I also had the pleasure of spending time with a very delightful young fella this week (hello, Pikachu) and feel the residual joy of what it means to play. To again not overthink the storyline. To bring things to life because you can see the possibilities in the blue car flying through the air and then winning the race over all the other red, yellow, and green cars because that’s what you feel needs to happen. And also, the simplicity of watching and listening to people around you. Maybe they seem strange or fascinating but ultimately it can be pretty wonderful to just be able to feel safe to stare and wonder and come to your own decisions about what’s happening around you, then only share those thoughts if you want to. I vaguely remember that sense of watching and wondering and learning, while feeling like I had time to do just that. It wasn’t a conscious I-have-time thought but more a sense of not knowing I needed to know or that there was a time constraint built in. I was just taking what I needed and waiting to see what happened next.

I still often don’t know and my goal is to not think that I need to. Just wait and listen and see what happens. Drive that blue car right into my imagination.