Around The Unsound

I've been trying to think through a few things over the last couple weeks since Exile's been home.  Not that the conversations I have with my cat are particularly useful, but there's a certain perspective one gets from having a small predator in the house.  Having gone through an ordeal to repatriate her, those memories linger with me every time she demands food in the morning.  For her, I'm not sure if it even registers, though she does realize small differences.  We're not going to be moving back into the basement until early August, but she still goes to the basement door expectantly as if to declare "This is wrong, I know where I live."  Of course, like I'm sure most pet owners think, animals have a way of letting us know.  I'm not going into language here, but I would like to ask her what she thinks about having been transformed so many times. To me, every transition in this story makes her into something else based on the people involved. 

There are some stories that feel too strange for reality.  As you live through them, you may find yourself wondering at the veracity of your own recollections.  At moments, in the thickness of uncertainty, you question your own senses to the point that you might be tempted to modify certain aspects to fit with some measure of comfortable sense.  However much I appreciate such a sentiment, this ill founded  impulse has roots in our need for order that can never account for the chaos that is life. This story begins almost exactly one year ago when I took my chatty torti cat - Exile - to get her rabies vaccination.  As an indoor cat, adopted from the Edmonton Humane Society, there was never really any need for this procedure, but having a pet is a lifetime responsibility.  When your circumstances as 'the human' change, that is never an excuse to abandon a pet.  Such is my opinion, and I realize many people who don't have pets or a basic understanding of empathy will struggle