A Pocket Full of Liquorice

Holding onto joy and some sort of liquorice.

I thought it was too soon, but Andy disagreed. He showed me reels of kittens for adoption and of course I would home them all, but not quite now. Our lives are upside down. Ideally we would have kittens and a puppy together so they grow up to fit each other’s shape, but not just yet.

Our late Tuxedo has left huge snow boots to fill. She’s also left our hearts wide open and ready to love more. I tend to overthink and procrastinate, whereas my husband will make things happen. And so Pocket happened!

A 6 months old rescued kitten who hissed and hid in the most unsavoury places (behind the dishwasher and then the boiler). We had forgotten how kittens will squeeze into the tiniest spots, and our kitchen wasn’t as kitten-proof as we’d thought.

After a couple of days of rescuing her and trying in vain to tempt her to eat, Pocket started to come round. She has lavished me with the most unexpected cuddles as she nestles in my lap and purrs endlessly, dreaming active pursuits and kneading the air. I expected weeks of gradual progress, and to see how quickly she has started to trust me and to blossom is a privilege. I explain things to her and she drinks it all in; I’m training her to walk alongside my chunky boots, not suicide-slalom when she excitedly follows me to get her nourishment. Pocket lived in a pen from the age of 1 month until we adopted her. Each room is gradually revealed, mirrors covered as she scared herself, and her personality is peering out.

I thought it was too soon, I’m so glad I was wrong. I feel a sense of deep relaxation and pure happiness when Pocket finds her best spot on my lap. Her legs are so long, she often miscalculates height and depth and collapses with the elegance of a feline bambi. As I type or read, Pocket jumps into my lap and positions her lithe ink black body so my heart turns into her pillow. I notice her limbs fishtailed across my thighs as she drops her head knowing I will catch her and maintain the pose patiently until she wakes. Pocket seeks my eyes and gently stretches her paw until it reaches my face; she points her velvety chin up towards me and tickles my cheeks with her whiskers.

Seven weeks between the death of our Tuxedo and finding Pocket. In their difference I feel a link. I am less shy about treating my treasured pets as beloved sentient beings. I thank Pocket for adopting me. Her big golden eyes locking into mine, she’s part owl, part seal.

I needed to be reminded of the joy and love in the world, and that’s exactly what’s happening.

I hope you too, friend, have joy that’s enough to sustain you.💚

I’ll leave you with a few haikus inspired (quite randomly) by liquorice ;

~Just like liquorice

your smooth ink flows indigo

scales on yellow fish~

~Just like liquorice

the dark velvet of your cloak

gentle feline niche~

~Monochrome sketchings

nestle their souls up my sleeves

just like liquorice~