As Soon As the Cat’s Gone…I’ll Be Able to Travel
Or: Fear of the Unknown Can Be Debilitating
While part of me hates to use the old, ‘outdoors-and-basement’ cat as a crude illustration, I also believe it is fitting. And it’s not just because I’m aging that I hear those ‘adult’ voices that say:
“But you cannot do that, because of ____________. <<Insert favorite justification, of your choice>>
Even though I genuinely admire spontaneity in others, I have rarely suffered from that malady. Some would call me ‘staid’; some would describe, ‘overly cautions’; and others would just say, ‘predictably a stick-in-the-mud’. All those monikers are accurate, but still sting in their contemplation.
Okay, back to the old cat. My wife named the cat “Josie” (aka Mama Kitty) after we ‘adopted’ the cat as a pregnant stray that happened to find a feeding spot and refuge at our house, some 12–14 years ago. Our younger daughter is a large-hearted sort and we did not discourage her showing love toward the hapless cat. When my wife named the cat, the name came from my wife’s preteen days of watching the Hanna-Barbera Productions of “Josie and the Pussycats” the animated series shown on Saturday morning network television, starting in 1970.
