Self Care by Watching Galadriel

I have a friend staying with me for a week. We have been looking forward to this visit for a while. This young man drove us all over England when my daughter and I visited a few years ago. I cleaned the house, changed the linen, emptied drawers, and made room in the closet. All done, or so I thought.

We went to bed last night and, of course, I shut the bedroom door. Galadriel was not used to this, as she typically went downstairs in the middle of the night. At 2 am, I felt a paw swipe my face, a head butt to the chin, and a loud purr. I thought this was comforting and went back to sleep. A few minutes later, she started meowing. When I sat up she went to the door. I opened it, she went downstairs.

Today I dug out the small litter box I got when she first arrived. I washed and dried it, filled it with litter, and took it up to the bedroom. It was such a joy to watch her investigate the new object in the room. If you remember, she is blind. Her adaptive techniques were amazing. She smelled it, which I expected. But then, she dabbed her paw inside to check out the structure, then walked around the outside, brushing her whiskers across the rim as if to be sure of the height.. Then she jumped in and repeated her survey with her whiskers. 

I don’t remember finding anything so fascinating and rewarding for a long time. Doing that simple thing, preparing a litter box, then watching her discover it, check it out, and finally anoint it so no other cat could use it. The joy of watching a creature engage in an act of discovery was soul-satisfying. I could have brought her to the box and introduced her to it by placing her in it. But I really think she enjoyed the hunt. And I got to enter into her joy.