The Cat and I
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the midst of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat—and a Voice beat
More instant than the Feet—
‘All things betray thee, who betrayest Me’."-Francis Thompson
I blinked. It seemed quiet. Really quiet--you could hear a pin drop in the hallway, before the arrival of the cat...who dug his claws nicely into me as I sat up in my bed.
“Well, well, well...” The look on its face was simultaneously priceless and simultaneously something else, and as I glared at it in that sort of “I don’t want to talk now” look, I was only half-sure my brain would comply.
“No, Mother doesn’t hate you, and neither do I. This is a big step for you, love...and it’s a good thing you’re doubting.”
“That’s...not the same as running away, is it?”
The kitten smiled, pondering the question before answering that it wasn't, before curling up on my lap. "Oh boy..."