Flo sleeps on the newly redone front porch all day. She curls up on the wicker chair, sits on the wicker bench and stretches out on the bottom of the wicker coffee table. When I bring her food out, she slowly get up and slinks over to it or, she ignores it. I guess what I’m saying is she lays around all day, eats when she feels like it and hunts when she feels like it, basically, she does just what she want to do when she wants to do it.
And I have decided to practice in The School Of Flo for the next week, during our vacation on Cape Cod. And I’m going to remember the word practice. Because I know I can never achieve the style, experience and wisdom of Flo in one week. But I’m going to try. It is my intention, while on vacation, to live the life of a cat (although I’m going to replace hunting with reading, an adequate substitute in my mind).
And I can feel my body and mind preparing. All packed, my last-minute list on the table, I’m already finding it hard to think about anything except what I’m doing at the moment. I’m ready to go. In fact, I think in some ways I’m already there. Not physically, of course, but mentally. My mind has stepped through the door and entered into Flo’s classroom. But no mice heads for me please, I’ll have the raw oysters instead.
I wish you a week be as sweet as Flo’s days and will be back next Saturday.
(Although I can’t promise I won’t post a picture of a whale on facebook if I actually get to see one, or Jon’s seasick face as he contemplates “the whale as sofa”).