Quiet

It's quiet in the house. Afternoon is naptime for the cats, Carol is at her job in Burbank, and the neighbors aren't engaged in any major construction or gardening projects for the moment. I like the quiet. There are no distractions now and no demands on me other than those I place on myself.

I think the thyroid medication is helping Ebony. He's been calmer these last couple of days. It's good to see him feeling a bit better. He seemed so desperate when he first arrived here. Desperate for affection, for companionship, for nutrition, for relief from his ailments. He's getting what he needs now and that is beginning to show in his behavior. He's basically a good kitty, he just hadn't been getting the kind of treatment that would let his better side show. We're starting to see that now, his kinder, more playful side.

Yes, it's quiet, but I can feel the life all around me. We all feel more secure when we're together. We all know that there's someone nearby who loves us and will care for us. Knowing that adds a calmness to the house. And though we may appear to be oblivious to what's going on around us, rest assured that we're all alert and ready to spring into action at the least possible sign of threat, each of us in our own way. Quint would immediately investigate, Hedge would find a safe, dark corner to wait out the crisis, Ebony would stand his ground, and I would stand ready to defend us from whatever might befall. We not only take comfort in each other's presence, we gain strength from each other. If Carol were here, she would be on the front line, too. It's that kind of family.

Right now it's quiet, though, and there is no need for us to stir from our repose. Just know that we can and will man the battlements should the need arise. Beware the quiet man and his cats.