on washing a cat

When i picked up my cat ‘Mouse’ and took him to the tub with the bucket for washing, the whole organism fought me from the musco-skeletal channel, buttressing into an indefensible arch. It started in the mind of the cat, triggered the moment we crossed the divide of hallway and washroom, and before any water even touched the body. Dogs at this point begin to paddle their wrists instinctively.

The cats are no stranger to my washing them, and always appear more content afterwards, when dry and clean, and sleep soundly without the pests. And yet the fight comes up again every time we go to wash.

See how we fight both the good and the bad? Someone wants to help us, they offer a way out of our problems, and our whole organism reacts against the change, almost as though we believe they would hurt us.  Takes a funny resolve sometimes to do that which will be good for the health.

response

response to Audrey Marie Keel

i do not know what it feels like to be forced outta country (thank god) but i do know what it feels (and felt) like to have to leave the home of the culture i grew up in which would (and did) have me hate myself for i do (and did) not belong i am (and was) not loved nor do i (nor will i) exist in the belly of the culture i was born into, there was (and is) (and will be) no place for me and i ran like hell to get to myself to find myself to love myself against all that hated me (including them) (including me) before i even knew who i was (who i am and will be) and that was (is) (will always be) different      — KatYa (response to the poem ‘Home’ by Warsan Shire)