Monday, September 19, 2011

Three Textures

For this week’s memoir prompt, we’re going to let narrative take a backseat. Choose a moment from your personal history and mine it for sensory detail. Describe it to us in rich, evocative details. Let us breath the air, hear the heartbeat, the songs, feel the fabric and the touch of that moment.

Cat; Herself; Mistress of All She Surveys, at 14, the eldest of the three.  Steps into my lap with feather lightness.  She settles in before I know she's there. 
Black fur with bits of white now, smooth, sleek, and silky under my fingers.  As I move along her back, I feel the bones that have begun to protrude at her hips, showing her age. 
She rolls to her back in the crook of my arm for a belly rub.  Her purrs vibrate with pleasure, warm dampness against my arm where she's has drooled a bit.

Sir, my pretty boy, long haired silver tabby. Fifteen pounds of muscle and fur.  Fur so soft my work worn hands can hardly feel it.  I use my face to feel the cottony texture, he sniffs at my mouth, perhaps to make sure of who I am. 
His step is not light, he rocks the chair we share.  He revels in the scratching of my fingers.  Bites ever so gently with saber fangs when I rub his belly. 
Then he drops onto my lap.  He hides his head under his paws and heaves a sigh.  Soon he sleeps, his deep rumble of purrs dissolve into snores.  His weight puts my legs to sleep as well.  The warmth of his body transfers to my thighs as he gets heavier in sleep.

Wee, youngest, smallest, and most wary of the three.  Also black, but a deeper shade.  Fur that is full and coarser than the others. I bury my fingers in it, feeling the coolness of the fur against the heat of her small body.
She climbs full clawed to my lap.  Or leaps from somewhere, her speed and gravity making up for her lack of weight.  Insistent that her presence be known.  With needled feet she kneads my lap to her specifications. 
She sits tense, a bundle of action, looking for the next target.  She purrs and mews, stands to tap my face. Soft paws punctuated with claws.  Her nose to my nose, her sandpaper tongue scrapes my skin. 
As sudden and violently as she appears, so does she depart.  A parting mew, a loud thump as she uses speed and gravity once again.

The three takes their turns.  When one leaves, another soon takes their place.  I know each one with my eyes closed.  Their presence brings comfort, warmth, and the unconditional love that pets have in abundance. 

My cats grace both of my blogs.  Cat is on the button for Random Rants.  Sir and Wee share space on the button of this blog, Elsetime & Otherwhen.


  1. A study in peace and cats. You bring them alive here, which, as far as I am concerned, is the goal.

    Did the description drive the emotion, or did emotion decide the moment you chose to describe? I'm just curious...

  2. Oh dear, do I dare mention that I'm not a cat person? Before I duck and cover, let me just say that you described them perfectly= every last fur and purr is me. Thanks for that. {Hee!} :) Fabulous job friend!

  3. Wow, you just nailed this. I feel like I would know them if they climbed into MY lap. I like that they each bring something different, something unique and cherished. Beautifully written.

  4. As a loving cat owner, I absolutly adored this :) the different personality styles were perfect! :)

  5. Awesome. You had me at the bones roused some visceral memory in me, and I was there. Weird, because I haven't held a kitty in over a decade, really...

  6. We had 4 cats once... they all were incredibly different just as you described here. The drooling kitty actually made me giggle because we had two of them that would slobber all over you the second you started petting them. Like dogs drooling over a steak. So bizarre.. hehe

  7. Very, very vivid details and description on the characters and the setting! Your post brought all of the details to life. Beautifully written post!

  8. This just says contentment to me. A real affection for these furry friends, a gentle purring by your side. How very lovely.

  9. I have this horrible habit of voraciously reading these memoir posts one to the next and then neglecting to comment. I meant to tell you when you posted this how much I loved it. I love my furball (a dog!) so much and the way you described your cats warmed my heart. This made me remember my childhood cats. The fat one, Gus, used to watch my soap operas with me in the summer. He'd sit on my lap, purring and slowly kneading his claws into my arm. I let him because he was cute.