Free Range

   Well folks, tonight is one of those rare occasions that I have nothing to say.  Usually upon constructing a blog post I'll have a vague outline in mind addressing what I’m going to discuss.  However, for the first time…maybe ever…I sit here and find myself with squat.  Life just hasn’t been that interesting lately.

   I seem to have already resigned to my winter rut and it’s only September!  I guess I could state that the day I took the above pictures I found myself roaming the local zoo.  That afternoon I spent hours staring at animals in cages without even an inkling of remorse.  Afterwards I wondered if I was supposed to feel guilty about seeking entertainment from the captive wild.  Was I obligated to wonder if these critters were happy?  Was it my moral obligation to question if their care was up to snuff?  Most of all, why did I feel worse about the extra ice cream sandwich I just inhaled than I did about the baby monkey behind bars?   “Maybe I'm just bad,” I thought while shamefully acknowledging my vintage fur coat collection at home.

   Of course, in response to this last comment I want to reiterate that no mink, fox, raccoon, or rabbit from the 1940’s to the 1970’s died without me attempting to honor it.  Yes, one could argue that each time I purchase one of these coats at the thrift store I perpetuate the idea that killing animals for fashion is okay.  However, I would argue that most of these creatures died long before I was around and it’s an outright sin to ignore the beautiful product of their sacrifice.  I'm very aware that many others do not share my opinion on this matter.  However, I do hope that everyone can abide by the, “Different Strokes,” proverb...and no, I'm not referring to, "What you talkin bout Willis?"  Let’s just stick with, “Tomato…Tomoto"…oh, and please don’t throw any rotten fruit if you come across me wearing one of these gems.

   Back to the topic at hand, I guess the reason I didn’t feel bad for the animals at the zoo was because they looked content.  The monkeys were all chilling and picking each other’s ears.  The penguins were all doing a happy dance around a big bowl of bait.  I even saw a koala bear fall asleep mid chew during his dinner.  “My God!” I exclaimed, “These animals are in the same rut I am!”

   Don’t get me wrong, I’m aware that I just made a comparison between being content and being in a rut.  I'm very pleased to be able to state that in many ways I’m quite happy with the way my life is.  However sometimes I really long for something different.  For example, I look at my outdoor cats,(whose portraits grace the patches of my shorts in the above pictures), and wonder just what they do every day out there in, “The Wild”?  Each morning I release them from the shop and watch them sprint out the door in order to pursue…who knows what kind of adventure?  They are free range animals for the day and able to seek out any activity they may fancy.  They have no obligations…no regrets…and no routines…except maybe the one where they all come running for my calls when nightfall comes.  Oh...and I guess they all march in a single file line into the safety of their overnight shelter.  Okay…and yes, they all expect a full belly from the food bowl and a turn at the litter box at this time.  I ask you, is it a big deal that each one of them anticipates exactly three treats before they retire to their seemingly assigned sleeping spots?   Yep, my outdoor cats have it made.  They are what I would call rut-less. 

   Too bad being rut-less means I’m always fearful of the day one of them will disappear.  In anticipation of this event every morning before I let them out the door I rock each one of them in my arms and whisper, “You be careful out their today.  Look out for your siblings and make sure to come back to me tonight.  Most of all always know that you are loved.”  Oh yeah, did I forget to mention the cats demand this as well…but not out of routine!

-r.