Furry orange therapy

Trying to distract yourself is like trying to not watch a car accident when you drive by. You try and try, and you KNOW you know better than to watch. Rubbernecking just causes traffic jams and frustration, you might see something absolutely horrifying or you might just get into an accident yourself. And you remind yourself all of these things as you slow down and drive by.

But you still look. It's hard not to.

Have been doing a lot of things lately that allot weird free time and therefore make healthy distractions harder. You know, it's when you schedule an appointment or a meeting or a reading and there's not enough time for you to go home, but there's just a little too much time to kill. It's what your typical book/magazine/DVD/cafe superstore is for (the Borders people? Genuises), or in my case Church street. Within the same 75 ft. radius there's clothes/accessories, several restaurants, two salons and a bookstore. Bookstores always bring back childhood memories; my parents were, and still are, fond of hitting up bookstores on a Friday or Saturday night after dinner. There's something about a good used bookstore that promotes wandering and before you know it, you've blown 20 minutes reading about how to make a stereo out of pinecones or listening to new music. You don't buy anything you don't have to and you can still learn something new or pleasurable.

Yesterday, with a chunk of time and the chill air, quickly nipped into Aardvark's Used Books before my reading. The smell of fraying pages and glossy covers, comforting. Behind the homemade counter - an elderly Koreander type, scrutinized each attendee before returning to his own tome. And I soon was lost in the ceiling scraping shelves, packed with words and stories and pictures. But cruising down one of the aisles, I was confronted by another resident lordly sentinel.

For the frequent readers of the bloggityog, you probably know why I'm trying to keep myself distracted. And honestly, nothing said distraction more than a 10lb. bundle of orange colored tabby love plopped squarely between me and travel.

Golden eyes fixated on my outstretched hand and our intial meeting ended in nothing more than your typical kitty cat brush off. But on our second encounter, in front of a stack of music books ('natch), Lord Kitty decided he would rather jump a seat on my squatted lap. At first, it was a gentle head butt, then a full on purr-fest. Cuddling this cat, made me feel better. I know that it's ludicrous to believe that animals can sense your feelings, but somehow knowing that something, somewhere still wanted to snuggle up to me (and my down stuffed coat) made me feel ok. It's been hard knowing where to turn or what to do lately. Do I want or need to hold a hand that isn't 100% invested in that moment? Pets on the other hand, are fully in the moment of being held and loved and aren't interested in being anywhere else but there. Skeptics will say that of course kitty wanted to be held and petted and loved, but I stick to the belief that in his own cat way, he was offering me up a type of comfort too.

After a while of gentle head scratching, my thighs started to ache. Levering my new buddy off his haunches onto the floor with a gentle, "That's enough baby," I realized that there's been a proverbial change in me. Even when I make the rules, someone will still want to snuggle. Good to know.

ps. have been thinking of going tandem skydiving lately. If you want to go, let me know.