Cat Nap by RD Hartwell

Cat Nap
by RD Hartwell

At 8:37 a.m. the sun finally burns off a sufficient amount of the morning fog to plant thin, hazy squares of orange on the umber carpet. These are bisected at odd angles by the shadows cast from the thin strips of wood holding each pane of glass in the door leading to the back. The black and white cat, almost a feline pinto, disengages himself from the cushion on the rocker in front of the dead fireplace and, after circling twice counterclockwise to propitiate the gods, settles into an attitude of a miniature sphinx, exactly centered in one of the new, orange squares. The cat faces the door and the sun and the outside and, with great pleasure, slits his eyes against the glare and prepares to enjoy the expected warmth reflected through the glass. He is much smarter than the other occupants of the house still abed and, even if disappointed later, knows enough of life to enjoy the moment, this moment, right now. The two jays, squabbling in the bush just to the left outside the door, fighting over the favors of a third, larger jay perched on top of the fourth strand of the tautly stretched barbed wire strung between two posts next to the bush, hardly disturbed the napping cat at all.


Editor's Note on this Piece: If only people could enjoy a moment like a cat does.