Flash is not a
pet and not just a cat. He’s a person, and he’s my son.
Like
many parents, we adopted because we wanted a family that we couldn’t make from
scratch, and someone out there needed one.
That
first night was a marathon of tense uncertainty. Lots of pacing, crying, and
questioning if it was a good fit.
A
year later, we’re all resting easy. He recognizes that, while we don’t look
like him, we are his tribe (though his dad also wears black all the time).
Through us, he’s learned that the world is loving, life is beautiful, and
people are cats too.
Like
any adolescent boy, he plays ball, fights with his tortoiseshell sister, and
has assigned chores, which in his case is to patrol all corners and crevices
for any trespassing flies or spider crickets unaware of the new sheriff in
town. We keep count of his apprehensions on a chalkboard in the kitchen. He’s
up to twelve this week.
Now
Flash isn't going to university or continuing anyone's family name, but
nurturing that sleekishly effervescent lifeforce to its full cuckoo-bananas
potential is legacy enough for us.
And
who knows: in a karmic future life, maybe he shepherds us to
safety, takes care of the litter boxes, and celebrates our fleeting-but-brilliant
starlight.
: - | >
*The Face Zone is also a live show with music.