Thinking about my cat this morning. A realtor friend found her in the wall of a house she was selling. She couldn’t keep her because she was allergic.
I’m allergic, too, but we kept her. At least until I couldn’t keep her anymore. After which, she went to live with my parents, who found her one day in the garage, passed on.
Chimi was a wild thing. A fierce thing. Wanted to be outside. Wanted to be climbing trees and chasing birds.
As much as we wanted to keep her safe inside, we couldn’t change her.
You can’t change the nature of things.
And why should you try?
Reminded me of the poem, Famous by Naomi Shihab Nye. Set to film here.
She writes about our desire to be seen and recognized — in our own ways. In relation to what’s important to us.
As the wild things we are.