Henry the Weary (7)

Early April in the Year of the Cat

Henry recovering from his encounter with Petula (below).

Greetings.

It is with mixed emotions that I note the cessation of the season of darkness and the return of the light. I know that you humans follow planetary motions with rather rudimentary measurements that attempt to mimic the kinds of understandings that those of us in the animal and plant kingdoms access intuitively, and it is on this point that I hope to find some common ground with you as Feeder.

As a nocturnal being whose natural condition is

one of sleep, the increasing daylight hours present me with a conundrum. I have less time to prowl about in the dark, but additional minutes each day to savor sleeping positions in direct sunlight. Barn cats are especially suited to find deep comfort even in places that others might not perceive as conducive to pleasurable sleep, such as the top of feed sacks or hay bales or even piles of dirt. It is commonly accepted wisdom that any legitimate farmstead should have at least one sleeping barn cat visible from all points on the property. Thus, your credibility as Feeder depends on my visible sprawl in sunny spots for a significant number of hours each day.

As you know, cats must catch occasional mice as a matter of self-respect. While mice form the basic diet of the ordinary barn cat, we all know – forgive my boldness – that I am not ordinary. Mice carry a plebian flavor, which is why I often consume the carcasses only partially. For erudite cats like myself, the consumption of song birds remains an issue of status. If it is my lot in life to be an outside cat, then please consider attracting, housing, and feeding a greater population of birds at the Patch, as they are a food truly fitting my evolved tastes. The more colorful the better – bright blues and yellows are, in fact, my preferred diet.

Finally, I must emphasize my deep distress at the unexpected appearance of Petula the Packrat. While my duties include the sporadic consumption of mice, the remainder of the rodent kingdom falls far outside my purview. Petula was an immense specimen, a ferocious creature at least half my size. It took tremendous foresight on my part to avoid Petula entirely, to give no sign or indication of her presence. I trust that I remained within the bounds of my professional duties. I do appreciate your efforts to trap and relocate Petula, and am reassured by our joint agreement that maintaining the Patch as a Petula-free zone is your responsibility as Feeder.

I must say, even the thought of Petula leaves me distressed. Do you have any colorful birds handy? I could very much use a pick-me-up at the moment.

In great weariness, your servant,

Henry