Yesterday, after the neighborly visit and the unsuccessful online entry, I stayed indoors, trying to make the hours productive.
I sat down to do some writing. Minutes later, the cat kept passing under the chair, pressing its body on my legs as if telling me something it needed to do.
I stood up from my chore and walked straight to the door. I suspected the cat wanted to go out and do its thing on its favorite sandy spot near the potted plants.
The cat followed but it did not go out. Instead, it continued its earlier motions, confusing me in the process. It acted strange, I thought.
What was the cat up to? Did it want to play like one of my godchildren? Did it need petting?
The clocked registered 12 noon. When I glanced back at my cat, it seemed to be nodding as if saying, “Yeah, that’s right, man. It’s lunch time.”
Oh, I almost forgot. The cat and I shared a familiar similarity: we were routine followers. We did things regularly that if an activity was not done on time, it would spoil the overall schedule of the day.
I had leftovers from breakfast so I decided that cooking would have to wait before supper. Besides, I was not that hungry. (I only eat when I am hungry.) I could just give the cat my share.
Well, that plan did not work. The cat did not touch the food, especially the fried fish which was one of its favorite. Was the food spoiled or something? It was cooked just a few hours earlier.
I stared at my cat, trying to decipher what it really wanted. I knew it wanted to eat but what?
Then, I idea occurred to me. I believed I knew what to do.
Five minutes later, the cat had a feast, the same food I served earlier. The main difference was that I reheated it.