I woke to the sound of our cat crunching on her breakfast. We buy her the good stuff. I’m sure that’s why she’s so nice to us. Then I heard her claws click across the hardwoods as she made her way down the hall and across my bedroom. I heard the pause before she jumped on my bed. She snuggled in for a morning nap after filling her belly. My bed sets beside a sliding glass door that looks out on the Poplar in the back yard. Just as the cat closed her eyes, I saw a Robin land on the shed roof next to the Poplar.
I don’t know how my cat saw the Robin with her eyes closed. There wasn’t a sound to alert her. Her body tensed, her hair stood on end, and she started making that chattering sound that cats make when all-systems-are-go, and there’s a victim to be trounced upon. Her instincts kicked in. She went from full belly/drowsy eyes to ready to pounce in 2.3 seconds.
That is the power of instinct.
I didn’t babysit much as a teenager. I wasn’t interested. I didn’t want to hold babies. Truth is, I was afraid of babies and their needs and their vulnerability. I didn’t think they were particularly cute, and they smelled weird.
As I got older, I got to a place where I actually wanted a baby. It was a foreign concept and a new feeling for me. I felt this longing, but I couldn’t conceptualize why I wanted this thing that I hadn’t been interested in. I won’t go into the clock ticking and the insatiable hunger and that stuff. It was just this low-grade hum that kept telling me, “You want this. Your life isn’t complete without this.” Continue reading →