Crazy Quilt: Current
Crazy Quilt
1.4.2006
 
 
All content © 2000-2006 All rights reserved.
All creative life, emotional life, spiritual life, sexual life, relational life, moves in cycles of darkness and light, loss and return.
~Clarissa Pinkola Estes
 

Developing A Habit

It started innocently enough with old post it notes. I wadded one up one day to toss it in the trash, and immediately the cat was right in front of me tilting her head and looking expectantly. As I wadded and tossed it toward the garbage, she leapt up in the air, intercepted the throw, and started batting the bit of paper around the room.

She was so cute. I wadded up some more post its especially for her, and tossed them out. She loved the game. We called it mousies.

Pretty soon, the second she heard the crinkling sound of paper she was right there, begging.

One mousie was never enough. She wanted to first play catch with as many as I would throw, before she batted them around the room. She looked so pitiful if I stopped throwing. Whole pads of post its started to disappear before I realized it. She became an expert at catching the wads mid air, as I praised her efforts, and skill.

I got wise, though, and quit wasting post its. Instead I tore up junk mail and wadded and tossed. At least I found a cheap way to feed her habit.

Pretty soon, she decided to look for her own paper late at night while we were sleeping. We started finding white napkins from the napkin holder tossed on the floor in the mornings —several times— before we learned. Any random napkin, kleenex, any white paper now became fair game.

The holiday came and there were presents for her-- crinkly wrapping paper and crinkly paper candy cups. She was right there in my face to claim them. She was so cute. I showed my granddaughters how to wad and throw. I wanted to share the fun.

As I turn my head to the left tonight, spread in front of me in a line on the floor are at least seven tiny wadded up pieces of paper which she is merrily batting around. And as I survey the living room, there are even more random patches of white. There must be hundreds of tiny pieces of paper hiding under the furniture.

She's created a monster.

I'm out of control, I'm throwing trash. On the floor. Everyday. For my cat.

 

 

 

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