Tonight, on the radio, a concert. Serendipitous Christmas lullays. Unconscionably lovely, the music soothes my breaking heart. Outside, cars swish on the wet road, people caught up in the crazy to and fro of the time of year. My cat is by my side; we listen together to the singing, to the traffic, to one another’s heartbeat.
In spite of everything we need nourishment, my cat and I; we should eat, the both of us. But we sit and listen, knowing that it is this music, and only this music, that will feed and save us. Save us from our regrets and our remorse, about which we can do nothing. If you think a cat cannot experience such emotions, you have never truly known a cat. Or that our job, indeed our purpose, is to survive, the one alongside the other.
I stroke my cat’s neck. He turns and we look into one another’s eyes, while around us the music swirls. I could believe in this moment that angels float outside my window. And, when it comes to it, belief is surely all. At Christmas and at all times.