I wish I had a picture of this, but I don't. I played golf Sunday, and when I came home, I thought I'd get a little sun to even out my golf tan. Honestly, I'm not into sunning anymore, but those pesky lines around the ankles are a buzz killer.
The chaise lounge has this little hood-like shelter thing that covers the top part of your body, and I'm thinking that at least preserves the face, for what it's worth. I was laying on my stomach, getting the back of my golf ankles tanned, and the cat hopped up and made a pillow above my head. It felt so good. We snuggled. I smelled his fur. I thought, what a good boy cat!
Slowly, he squirmed and moved and adjusted, and a few minutes later I was halfway off the chaise with no protection from the little hood, practically all body parts exposed to the sun. I was like, you rotten cat! You squeezed me out of my comfy place so that you could have the shade. He is a predator, after all. He steals my husband's chair all the time, too. My husband calls him Chair King.
I still love the little guy. Bruno. Bruno Baby. Bruno Magli. Bruno from Sumatra. He has so much personality. Honestly, my cat has more personality than many of the people I encounter day-to-day. I said that in my outside voice, didn't I?
Bruno puts it all out there. Everything he does has a message. Today I thought about what people (not cats) share, and what they hold back. What they share is what I find interesting. But people who withhold and control their message all the time sort of annoy me. I guess that's because I'm the opposite. I probably reveal too much. I mean, here I am on the interwebs telling my life story to a couple of hundred people. But I am a writer at heart, and a writer writes about something. Some of us tell our stories, some of us tell other people's stories.
My favorite part of this blog is connecting with people who share their stories, too. We are not alone, and finding another person who once felt like you kinda sorta felt is an amazing thing. I acknowledge, however, that sometimes it's scary. I think, oh, this is dangerous, telling all this, hold back, stay safe. The world really doesn't care if this story is told.
But somebody does. Even if it's just one person. Connecting with one person is cool. Today I talked ad nauseum with a driver who grew up in the same general area where I grew up -- near Disneyland -- and we swapped our stories of E tickets and the magic shop on Main Street and rock candy. It was the highlight of my day.
Every day somebody responds to what we say and what we do and what we share, and that makes us human. Or possibly cats. I am personally fond of both.