On FB, I started an album of Foo moments. It's dear, and absurd. He's not yet a year old, but judging by the places he's been, the adventures he's, either, enjoyed or survived... He's already lived one lifetime. What a lucky little polka spotted puss he is. And aren't we lucky, too? Even when he's bad, we adore him. Even when we admonish him, we not-so-secretly beam with amused delight, because he is a pure soul. His misdeeds are mostly forgivable, and often funny.
It's so easy to load and share snapshots of Mister Foo's day... Two reasons to deeply appreciate my iPhone and social media. Those tiny images, a fleeting moment, are evocative, silly. They make me smile, calm my nerves. Most of the pictures are grainy, dim, not Photography, but collectively they are a story, life as art, personal and meaningful art. "Art makes you think." I read that, recently. And when I revisit the FB album "Life of Foo," I think... For all of the challenges and complications life can throw at us, there is grace and worth in loving each other, and great healing in laughter.
Before dawn my chickens were clucking, sounding distressed. This is unusual in chickens, who sit quietly until first light. I had to pull on my boots, grab a flashlight and investigate. I think it may have been that big and romantic moon that stirred the ladies. Nothing was amiss in the run.
Back to bed for me. And fortunately Mister Foo found me and nestled between my legs, on my feet. A perfect heater. I slept still, sweetly, and soundly. Geoff woke me, "Have you seen Mister Foo?" He took a picture. I peeped, with a sleepy eye, and laughed out loud. I hadn't imagined he was laid out, as though in a hammock. He looked like a sleek cat canoe. He was thoroughly content and resigned to a leisurely Saturday cat nap.
Did you notice his heart? Can't miss his polka-spots. A Foo life, is good.