Thoughts and musings, illustrated
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Russian blue cat on a black chair. This is a color photograph, not black-and-white; and it is not a negative.
Gwenny has thick, plush fur of a uniform dark gray color with a shiny silver undercoat that under a direct light highlights her outline (and makes petting her feel like sinking your fingers into butter). Gwenny weighs eight pounds. She is eighteen years old and can still teleport like a kitten when the mood strikes her. Which is not now.
Tags: cat, cat sleeping, Russian blue
Amber is a peaches-and-cream Maine coon cat. Like all cats, he takes himself seriously. And characteristically of male Maine coons, he is completely lovable and goofy–in short, hard to take seriously. Here he rests in a sink half his size–which, in case you’re wondering, is 23 pounds (the cat, not the sink)–wondering what I’m doing with that little flashing box.
Tags: cat, Maine coon cat
As I sit at the kitchen table going over the program for Worldcon 67 (Anticipation 2009), the sky darkens. And then really darkens. Rain pours so heavily it drowns out the sound of the waterfall. Flowers are subjugated into down-facing humiliation, and I marvel that they have evolved to stand such a beating.
Thunder roars.
Amber, who has been napping at the edge of the rug, looks up in alarm. As the thunder strikes again, he scrambles, terrified, to his feet.
Amber, the world's silliest, most doglike cat
I try to soothe him. “It’s okay, Kitty. It’s all right.”
But Amber is not to be soothed. He knows that whatever this is, is horrible. He slinks from the room, keeping as low to the floor as he can. Later, I find him hiding on a chair pushed far under the dining room table. He won’t let me touch him.
A thunderstorm is passing overhead. A flash of lightning, mostly obscured by the trees is closely followed by a loud crack and a persistent roll of thunder. Amber, who the moment before had been sleeping by my side, is instantly alert. His head jerks up. His eyes are wide; his pupils, dark. His ears antenna in all directions. The sound passes. Amber rests his head on his paws again.
I suddenly understand that wherever we get this fear of lightning and thunder from, it’s very deep and very ancient.
