As the days become longer, brighter, and sweeter, I enjoy spending time outside in my garden, weeding, watering and digging. There are robins who hop, hop, hop next to me as I break up and move around the earth. I like to think they are enjoying being with me, even though I know they are hoping for me to uncover some worms or insects for their delight. When I come back into the house, often times Ada is sitting by the window mewing as she stares out waiting for my return. I feel a sharp twinge of pain in my stomach as I see her little eyes peeking through the window pane, her mouth propped slightly open in the call she is making.
I cannot help but feel I am a dictator to Ada Mae, albeit benevolent. For it hurts me that she is not allowed out of the house to smell the spring blossoms, chase butterflies, and chirp away at the birds playing and drinking in the bird bath as she used to in our former apartment by the Wissahickon. Our house is situated right on the edge of one of the busiest streets in Philadelphia, and I fear for her life. And so, she has become an indoor cat. Now, with the mighty big house we live in, she has plenty of nooks and crannies, stairs to climb and multiple window seats to snuggle into to peer out of the windows. But what about the fresh sweet air of spring?
I think about this each time I enjoy my time playing out in our beautiful garden, and weep within for my darling cat. I am torn between keeping her safe from harm, versus allowing her freedom in the outdoors.
But then again, boundaries or setting limits … have always been a challenge for me …
… ah, and that I shall leave for a whole other blog post at another time …
Seven years ago at Tamarika: Hearts drawn backwards