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Kymberlie Ingalls is native to the Bay Area in California. She is a pioneer in blogging, having self-published online since 1997. Her style is loose, experimental, and a journey in stream of consciousness. Works include personal essay, prose, short fictional stories, and a memoir in progress. Thank you for taking a moment of your time to visit. Beware of the occasional falling opinions. For editing services: http://www.rainfallpress.com/

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Furry Wisdom

Sylvie is an adorable creature, with long black locks of fur, golden eyes that narrow with a smartness that makes me question her dumbness, a tail that is a sure indication that she is half-raccoon, half-squirrel, half cat, and a slightly off-focus gaze that locks on to me as she waits patiently for her treat. 

And she waits.

And she waits.

There isn't any other purpose to Sylvie's reason for existing, except to get treats.  Every playful moment, every time she gives chase to her best friend Georgie, each time she climbs to my shoulder for a hug, whenever she playfully steals my pen.  Every little loving lick she bestows upon me is with the intent to be given a treat at the end of the day.  She thinks she has us fooled, but we are quite aware of her malicious intent.  The cat has serious focus.

I could learn a thing or two from Sylvie.  How to be the Grasshopper, rather than the dreary Ant I am not so playful, so loving, or so precocious.  I don't get my way with a purr, or a batting of my ancient goddess eyes.  I can't just casually wave my gorgeous tail across someone's arm, causing them to melt with my bewitchery. 

The one thing we do have in common is that if there is scenery to be chewed on the stage, our teeth will be sunk in faster than you can say 'kitty chow.'

If I could, I'm pretty sure I'd be the richest, most contented woman alive today, and I'd get to sleep sixteen hours a day too.  Bonus points.

Instead, I scramble to be liked by my peers, while at the same time "just being myself" - one makes the other quite difficult to achieve, as has been indicated in the shortening of my buddy list as of late. 

Sylvie is loved by her fans - namely my husband and myself, but really anyone who comes to the house to see us is instantly taken with her.  We can't fault them, she works for it.  She fetches, she backflips, she rubs against their legs without ever saying what it is she's angling for - treats.

She doesn't hear harsh words, doesn't see what goes on in the world outside of her safe haven.  When Sylvie wants to take a rest from things weighing on her mind (treat seeking!), she will find a dark, quiet hideaway and returns when she can't stand to be missed any longer.  She's the baby of the family, younger than SPCA-cage-sister Georgie by two months, but doesn't feel left out or left behind - she has two parents who gush and mush over her constantly.  Okay, with the rare exception of when she's underfoot, but one goofball antic later she is always quickly forgiven.

Yes, there is something to be learned from Sylvie. 

I'm not sure exactly what it is yet, but when I do, maybe I'll find that sixteen hours of sleep I crave. 

I'll take a pass on the treats.

(c) Kymberlie Ingalls

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