Time.... Is given to each of us as a rough jewel to be polished, cherished and put away in the jewel cases of our
memory. As children, it stretches before us like a vast country to be explored, enjoyed, and marveled at. When
we're small, time has little meaning and seems endless. "Once upon a time" takes us on a magic carpet ride
into fantasy where "time" stands still. When we're teenagers, time creeps along, slow and steady, making us
impatient for it to pass. We can't wait to "grow up". As adults, we run out of time. "I don't have time to..."
becomes our daily litany. Then one day, a small bundle of fur moves into our busy lives. It demands that one
precious thing we have so little of....time. It demands "time" to be fed and petted and played with. We glance at
our watches or the clock on the wall impatiently, saying "I don't have time for this, or I'll do this later, when I have
time". But the small furry bundle doesn't care about *your* time clock, only it's own. So it impedes your rush to
the future in small ways, snuggling under your chin and refusing to budge, clinging to a trousered leg and
squealing for attention, dumping it's water bowl, or walking through it's canned food, leaving messy little
footprints everywhere. You clean up the mess, muttering under your breath about the "time" it takes to do it, and
asking yourself why you got a kitten in the first place. The kitten leans against your arm, purring, and looking at
you with the expectant eyes of an innocent child, waiting to be held. Well, you can't help it, you just have to stop
for "one minute" to snuggle the kitten, who purrs contentedly, having gotten her way after all. You realize that
time is a precious jewel, to be savored and shared and that, having agreed to accept the responsibility of this
tiny life, it needs "time" from you to grow and be loved. Time takes on a different meaning as you and your loved
companion grow together. Now the mistress of her domain, she lets you know in no uncertain terms, that this is
*her* house and you just have to deal with it. Never mind the snaggled curtains, the crashes and thumps in the
night, the pillow hogging, or the early morning wake up calls for breakfast "NOW, please", or the fact that she
uses whatever part of your anatomy that's handy as a scratching post. As before, you mutter under your breath
about "getting yourself into this mess, and why did I adopt a cat in the first place". Your morning ritual. She
ignores it, having heard it for so many years. The moments spent petting and snuggling stretch on, enjoyed by
both of you. When you look at your watch or the clock on the wall, it's not with impatience, but with surprise that
time has flown so quickly and you'd lost track of it. The comfortable companionship fits like a well worn, soft
slipper. One day, you see her move to a sun spot and settle down, and you realize that she's not walking as fast
as she used to,("Well, neither am I" you say to yourself) and her appetite isn't as hearty as it once was. You
watch her stretched out in the sunspot, sound asleep, and you remember when she first barged into your busy,
crowded life as a kitten: a four-footed bundle of energy, and how impatient you were; and the adolescent years,
when nothing was safe or sacred from her curiosity and playfulness. As you sit there looking back, you gently
and fondly take each jeweled moment out and hold it to the sunlight, marveling at it's beauty, and how both of
you grew to love and respect each other, and to reach that wonderful understanding that can exist between cat
and human. The day comes when "time" has finally run out. You hold the purring bundle of fur in your arms,
asking for a miracle, for "just a little more time, please God", and know in your heart that the most precious
commodity that you have, "time" is no longer there. The vet's face tells you that it can't be. It's "time" to say
goodbye. You hold your beloved cat one last time, kiss her gently on her head and whisper goodbye. You hear a
sound you know so well; her special purr, reserved just for you. Gently, she leaves you for a place where time
once again has no limit, it stretches to infinity, with a silent promise to wait for you to join her. On your way home,
the jewel box of memories opens, and those precious, special moments come tumbling out, unbidden.
Reluctantly you look at them; remembering the kitten that nearly drove you crazy; the time you just finished
folding up the clean clothes and was silly enough to walk out of the room for "just a few minutes" to come back
and find her asleep on the clean clothes; the long talks the two of you used to have (with you doing most of the
talking) while she listened to every word and you just knew she was agreeing with everything you said. You
remember the long naps she used to take in the sun, or across your legs, and how they used to fall asleep
because you didn't want to disturb her, and you cry, knowing that when you walk in the door, she won't be there
to greet you with that imperious meow. The light and life has gone from your house. You swear right then and
there to never, ever get another cat, because you can't stand the pain of loss. "Time" passes, and a friend walks
up to you and says "I have a friend who has a cat that needs a home. I hate to ask you because I know you don't
want another one, but she's pretty desperate" Could you at least think about it?" You hesitate...but then, the box
opens again, and the jewels spill out; the laughter at kitten antics, the warmth of a napping cat against your side,
the comforting purr, and yes, the sadness. "Why not? you say to yourself, "I've got time." Having decided to risk
another cat, you realize there are things you need to buy...no, you tucked away all of "her" things...just in case.
Well, they were good enough for "her", they'll be good enough for the new cat. You look forward to your house
being filled with the noise and energy of a cat, knowing that it will come alive once again. As you open the door
to greet the new arrival, you could swear you hear a faint, familiar purr and you smile, knowing it's okay. For all
of you who "take the time" to love, nurture and care for that most wonderful of creatures....the cat.
Links to other sites on the Web
Acme Pet
Thank you for visiting
View My guestbook
Sign my guestbook
Back to Cat Paintings
© 1997 dianek@usa.net
This page hosted by 
Get your own Free Home Page
