|Rosie, the "stray" cat|
Rosie showed up a little over a year ago, her belly full of kittens. She was mostly a kitten herself, and she needed food and water and some loving. A little bit of wet food to eat along with the crunchies. Snuggles in the evening. A safe, warm place to sleep.
But what Rosie really needed was her freedom. To come and go as she pleased. To chase (and unfortunately, kill) every little critter within a mile's range of the house. To frisk about in the backyard, playing with the kittens and the dog.
Security. And freedom.
This is my struggle right now - how to maintain my sense of security along with my responsibility to freedom.
Rosie never asks for freedom. If she can't get out of the house when she wants to, she jumps the fence. Or burrows a hole. Or takes a nap, and waits for the next opportunity.
I watch Rosie walking gracefully along the top of the wooden fence that divides the yard from the neighbor, or scramble up a tree, and I long for that sense of confidence, of ability. For the balance to walk between two worlds. 'Cause a world that offers security doesn't always mesh with a world that's based on freedom.
And knowing this, I feel like a cat with a mouse. (I'm the mouse.)