I wish I could give my cats the kind of cat room I’ve read about but never seen–with ramps to run up on and around, scratching posts of all shapes and sizes and a huge window seat. Instead, they have to make due with piles of boxes I have yet to unload and a somewhat narrower window ledge–wide enough, I suppose, but not what I dream of giving them.
Walter’s latest favorite seat is my desk chair, which has been scratched down to the wood frame and is a short walk away from the trash bin. It’s not particularly comfortable for me, but it’s the desk chair I have. Walter, however, just loves it. It is his throne. If I’m working and make the mistake of getting up, he dashes upon it. When I gently pick him up and place him down from the chair, he purrs and attempts to sit behind me. I guess he thinks sharing is a good compromise.
When a friend’s cat sadly and suddenly passed away in November, I became the recipient of two cat pillows, which Mimi has taken to greatly. Walter isn’t allowed in either one of them, no matter where Mimi might be at the time. If he dares sit in one, she quietly approaches him, starts cleaning him behind the ears, and he leaves. Quickly. Those pillows are her thrones.
I need to step back and realize that what I’m giving my cats is enough for them. I hear parents bemoaning what they can’t give their children, and I say to them, your kids have an imagination. They also have your love and commitment. If my parents had given me everything I wanted growing up, I’d be expecting a throne in my life today.
Instead, I’m satisfied with my desk chair. And my futon. And my wicker chairs. I have my cats, and they have me. They are loving and kind, and I hope my friends think the same of me.
Thrones are just overrated.
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