This is Tiger and as you know I am the senior cat in residence.
I shall turn 9 this spring in human years (not to be confused with the 9 lives of which I am on # 3) which makes me eligible for cat discounts. The point is, I’m starting to realize I am no longer young and this is increasingly apparent as I watch the junior cat on the premises, aka, Benji. I can’t fail to notice how fast he is, how instantly he appears by my side when nanoseconds before he was across the yard in the bush.
I have observed his frantic chasing of the squirrels, yea, his tumbling round and round with them, until they escape and scramble up the tree. (I have never attempted such a feat, though I have been known to give chase.)
The boy is limber to be sure. I fear my back would break if I attempted to sleep in this pose.
On one hand I’m supposed to be training him to adulthood, to get him to mind the feline norms of the domesticated cat. To settle down upon command. To respond quickly to the human ‘No!’ On the other hand I rather envy the boy. He gets away with crazy and blames it on youth.
And the thing is, (though I can’t let on), I feel the same as he inside. I want to fly.
Which makes me wonder: when do your insides catch up with your outsides? Or do they ever?
It remains to be seen. For now, I think I shall shed the senior label, as that’s all it really is.
In my dreams I am still just the teenage Tiger.
~ the Tiger