10/03/2026
Ohh boy. Mr. Meowski is in one of his moods. From the outside looking in, he looks normal. But we’ve spent so much time together, I know… I always know when something is off.
Mr. Meowski has a tell. He purses his whiskers forward, ever so slightly as if there is a stiff breeze pushing them from behind. And his tail. His tail usually floats behind him, fluttering in the air like a kite, but not today, not when he’s like this.
Right now his tail is rigid and stout. When he walks across the bakery I can see his tail is ticking back and forth like a metronome. Like he’s being directed by a menacing conductor who has no tolerance for rushing or lagging on the beat, or a red faced drill sergeant who’s looking for a reason.
The saddest part is that he’s trying so hard to look normal, probably to protect me from his problems.
I have a weakness when he gets like this. I always have to pry because I have an insatiable need to figure out why he is the way he is. My curiosity comes from a spring whose source is so deep the bottom is yet to be discovered.
I hate having a mystery on my hands.
What I really need to do is to learn how to let well enough alone, but I can’t help it. I have to poke the problem with a stick. Like I’m poking an opossum trying to play dead until the opossum decides his usual tricks and deception won’t work because my persistence is worse than a hungry mosquito buzzing in a hot sweaty tent.
The opossum will eventually get up and scurry back into the bush hastened by the tenderness in his ribs.
! I have digressed! My humble apologies.now where were we? Ohh yes back to Mr. M.
Mr. Meowski is getting on in the years, and is basically a raggedy, grumpy old man, if not by looks, certainly in spirit.
He’s allowed to have some autonomy without me prying into his life. After all we are business partners not lovers. Some aspects of his life can remain outside of my knowledge.
But I never know what to do when he gets like this. On one hand I want him to know I’m here if he wants to share. I personally think he will feel better if he did share, but that’s not up to me. My job is to be patient and present with him.
If he chooses to tell me what has his tail in knots I could quit making up imaginary scenarios that have caused his whiskers to tighten up like harp strings, but that would be to my benefit, not his, so I just try my best to remain a close and quiet companion.
Maybe he’ll tell me, maybe he won’t but I just hope he knows I’ll be here to ride out the storm with him. I will be the constant that is eluding him everywhere else and in that I hope he finds comfort and peace in that.