February 11, 2007 - Photo #0005 - "Battling Insomnia"

My eyes opened at 2 a.m. and a bit of motion and sound turned my head towards Caroline. A gray blur was descending from the darkness barreling towards Caroline's face. 2 a.m. is not the time for quick thinking and immediate action. By the time my brain had gathered the information necessary to form a coherent thought, let alone a reaction, Miracle had already crashed, got up and stumbled off into the night. At 2 a.m., events like this incur whispered death threats from the victim and bits of laughter from the witness, wisely quieted under my blankets.

In a house with two rambunctious felines, sleep must be grasped whenever possible. This, however, is not a problem solely within the confines of our apartment, few people get the sleep they require to make it through the day.

No explanations of anything are more interesting that the causes of insomnia. The humorous as per the case of our young felines who insist on running full-speed into walls and trouncing our faces if we offer the slightest twitch during a deep slumber, often intermingles with more serious concerns, those that worry, that fear, and that may even be afraid of what dreams may visit them during the night.

Or maybe it's just that sleep seems like a waste of time. Hours spent, eyes shut, body prone, wastefully idle. Sleep has become an enemy, a wastrel met with bitter scorn in a world where every minute awake is for one reason or another, vital.

Each night before I shut my eyes, I let my worries drift away. If there is ever an absence of positive thought, I can relax knowing that for the next 8 hours, I have nothing to fear, nothing to worry about. I will not hunger, I will not want, I will know that for however long I sleep, any crisis will have to wait until morning, and I prioritize my recovery and rest. For the next 8 hours, I will be unable to act upon my worries, so why worry at all?

Caroline takes this all a proper step further, and "de-dramatizes" her problems. When tired, molehills become mountains. A problem echoes in a dark, empty room. But no problem is so fierce that it cannot wait until morning, and problems are best tackled when your mind has had time to recuperate. Nothing is as bad as it seems, even at 2 a.m. And if you have a warm bed and a soft pillow, then life cannot be all that bad.

Tonight, though, the cats are getting locked out.

February 8, 2007 - Photo #0002 - "Our Furry Child"

Few can truly appreciate the intelligence of a cat. They are the one animal I believe operates a thought process beyond any in the world. Instinct and a slight learning curve bely every action, and darting after a bit of dust flittering in the apartment to pressing a soft paw against our sleeping noses, the "little ones" seem to take actions based upon a mysterious unknown decision, that can change at any moment.

Miracle, the older gray, and Sadie, our little calico, attack the invisible that wanders our apartment, spectors which I am certain only appear in their imaginative minds filled with clandestine thoughts.

Tonight was one of those nights where you realize the true joy of being a cat owner. Defying the stereotype of the unfriendly layabout, we were treated to an evening of romps through recently washed laundry, sharing the plastic wrap off a newly opened gift and the warmth of a small feline curled up next to your lap as you type away on the computer.

Most importantly though, these two bring life to a space that would simply remain stale and empty. Whereever they roam, there is always a story, always a bit of mischief, or a simple scene played out by two players with imaginary roles.

And no matter how many times I watch them, or how often I ponder, everytime they crawl up my chest to stare me face to face, they never betray a single clue as to what ideas may be hiding behind those huge round eyes.