For those just joining us, my husband, Rodney, and I are having a nice little friendly competition for September. I will write a blog entry and he will take a photo and include some short thoughts on the photo. I also agreed to share his photo on my blog. This collaborative effort aims to keep us creating and hold us accountable. The one potential problem, though, is struggling to create, which opens up the potential for some off-the-wall photos and blogs. We also don’t consult with one another on topics, so the combination can be peculiar. For one such example, keep reading…
Once upon a time, a tiny black and white kitten was separated from her mama too soon.
A big man stole her away from the comfort of her mama and new siblings and gave her to a family that loved and nurtured her. Even though the new family was nice, she still missed her mama. She yearned to be with her so much, that when she cuddled up with her new mama, she nursed on the inside softness of the two-legged creature’s arm, leaving hickey marks where she was unable to find the nurturing milk her young body craved.
Despite the fact that her new mama wasn’t a cat, she grew to love the family of four in which she had found her new home. There was a man and two boys, and she loved them all so much, but the mama was the one who reminded her of those early days.
Even years later, she remembered the bond that grew between them in her infancy. When the mama felt bad and didn’t show much attention to the kitten who grew into a finicky cat, she still loved her and wished to be near her.
Despite her love for the family, she became agitated when a second kitten came to live at the house, a gift for the youngest boy. And then a puppy arrived, another gift for the same boy, and yet another puppy, a gift to the elder boy.
She went from being one to four, and she didn’t like that the attention once reserved for her was now taken by the other animals. Still yet, she knew the human mama loved her.
One day, she realized her mama was a writer. She didn’t know that for a long time, but then her mama started writing in bed, and the keyboard rested in the same spot where she slept during her lonely days without the mama.
What the mama didn’t know, though, was that the black cat was also a writer, but her thoughts were trapped inside, with no outlet, until one day it occurred to the cat that she could channel her thoughts to the fingers racing across the keyboard.
So the now-grown cat rubbed and grooved her head against the corner of the screen and stretched out next to the keyboard. A muse she was and did become, relaying her thoughts and ideas to the fingers, that suddenly moved quicker and more frequently across the keys.
The words came quickly for the mama, and she soon realized that her furry baby helped the creative process. When she started writing without her muse, the words came slow and sluggish, but as soon as the cat curled up next to the keyboard, the words flowed from her fingers and stretched out across a once-blank screen.
“How funny,” the mama thought, “that I have finally found the inspiration I once longed for and it was here all along. How funny, that the grooving I once found irritating became something much more.”
Suddenly, she realized that the battle for the keyboard was actually a process for the creative.
“Oh, my gosh,” the mama thought. “My cat is my inspiration. I have my own little Mew-se!”