This morning started with a quiet little drama unfolding in the corner of my room.
When I woke up, Whiskey Kitty was curled up there in a tight little ball, looking sad and loveless. Normally she’s right in the action. Either climbing into the bed, licking my ear, clawing my neck like a tiny feline chiropractor, or demanding breakfast like a four-pound alarm clock with fur.
But not today.
Last night she didn’t try to get in the bed. She didn’t wake me up. No ear licking. No pawing. No morning breakfast protest.
Just a silent cat in the corner.
That’s when the guilt kicked in.
I usually feed her as soon as I wake up, though “wake up” can vary around here. Sometimes it’s morning, sometimes it’s closer to lunch depending on how the night went. But seeing her sitting there like that made me feel pretty bad about my behavior. Cats may not speak English, but they are fluent in the language of passive-aggressive silence.
We did play a little the night before, but the fact that she chose that particular corner instead of curling up somewhere in her own room felt like a statement. It was the feline equivalent of sleeping on the couch after an argument.
And then I wondered if maybe the problem wasn’t Whiskey at all.
Maybe it was me.
Depression has been hanging around lately like an uninvited house guest who refuses to leave. Animals pick up on that stuff. They feel the mood of a room the way sailors read the wind. Maybe she sensed something in me that I wasn’t even fully aware of myself.
So I did what I always do to reset the morning.
I took my medicine.
Drank some tea.
Filled Whiskey’s bowls with food and water.
Then I came back into the room and sat on the bed.
Whiskey grabbed her little red ball and began batting it around like she was playing by herself. You know the routine. The exaggerated solo performance cats do when they’re pretending they don’t need you at all.
Oh look at me, I’m completely independent. I don’t need your help. I have this ball. I’m very busy.
But every few seconds she glanced up at me.
Finally she paused, looked right at me, and I smiled.
That was all it took.
The act was over.
She trotted right over to the bed like nothing had happened. Just like that the cold war ended, the peace treaty was signed, and the Kingdom of Kitty was restored.
It’s funny how animals can remind you of something important. Even when you feel off, even when depression is whispering in your ear, even when your mind is trying to complicate everything, sometimes the solution is very simple.
Take your medicine.
Drink your tea.
Feed the cat.
Smile when she looks at you.
Little victories count.
And just like that, the day is back on track.
Once again… I got this. 🐾☕
by Dan and Bonkers
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