Feline Frustration

Making for a timely follow up to Wet Again, I found myself frustrated with the cats.

For what felt like the hundredth time that day, Yuki sniffed her food, flicked her tail, and walked away to sit by the cupboard where the cat snacks come from. Katsu, who eats special wet food for her IBS, was far more interested in Yuki’s abandoned bowl.

I sighed. We’d danced to this tune many times over the past few days.

“Why won’t you eat what’s in your bowl? 

I’ve always rotated your food to avoid this from happening… Whhyyy?!”

My irritation felt snakelike, coiled up and ready to lash out. They stared at me. I stared at them. They meowed at me. I meowed back at them, with an extra serving of sass. The air between us grew thick with resistance, heavy with frustration. Mine, mostly.

Then I thought about how I eat. How my tastes change, my preferences flicker. If I’m this mercurial, how could I expect anything different from two peculiar, instinct-driven creatures of pure, untamed whimsy?

That thought unwound something in me. I relented, softened. 

Fine.

Katsu received Yuki’s rejects she seemed to desire so much, mixed with her IBS-friendly kibble. And Yuki got her favourite—kibble. Like me, she loves a crunch.

And just like that, our collective resistance melted away. The tension in the air dissolved into the soft sound of two small, satisfied creatures eating the meal I’m pretty sure they’d been asking for for days. I just hadn’t been listening.

The frustration had never been theirs to hold. I was the one resisting reality.

While peace blossomed inside, outside, the rain drummed a steady rhythm against the window. Yuki licked her paws, Katsu settled into a loaf, and the world kept spinning, uninterrupted by my unnecessary self-created turmoil.

The problem was never the food, but resisting reality.

With love from the forest,

~ Alexander