OJ Checks In
“How you holding up?” OJ asks after a two minute long meowing discussion whether he should be let in through the human door or force his fat butt through the doggy door. I, obviously, lost because he refused to go through that “infernal contraption made for foul creatures.” He really knows how to lay down the logic. He saunters over towards my chair and flops down within petting distance of my right foot and stares at me expectantly.
“I’m holding up strong,” I reply, “Although, that’s a pretty vague question.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“So, is there something specific you are curious about? Or did you not know where to begin so you hoped I’d start the discussion this morning? Or are you overall just that concerned with my life that you think the whole thing is in shambles and therefore needs addressing as a whole?”
“Whoa, drama queen. Why don’t you settle down. It was just a basic greeting. Don’t overanalyze it. Sheesh. I figured if something particular was going on, that’d be what you’d mention. I don’t want to know about every detail of your life.”
“Sometimes you carry on like you do,” I mumble.
“Hey I heard that!” He says and starts cleaning his front paws. He’s now fully stretched out like a hot-dog cat or maybe a baguette cat is a better description. He periodically just looks up at me like I’m withholding information he requested and I should be blurting it out. I just smile back at him and he returns to ignoring me and cleaning himself. I’ve got a mug of coffee cooling down next to a french-press for the morning ritual. The sun to my right begins peaking over the houses in between the trees.
“Yeah you seem better,” he tosses out like poking a fire.
“Better? …than last time we talked? That was almost two months ago. You haven’t spoken a word to me since!” I say back to him indignantly.
“Oh come off it. I did, too. I just wasn’t in the mood for conversation. I said things, though.”
“Not for two weeks! I thought I’d truly gone crazy and hell, I’m still not a hundred percent sure the findings are conclusive!” I begin to trail off and mutter to myself, “And here I am, arguing with a cat again.” I rub my face with my hands and chuckle. This cat gets to me.
“Ha! That was such fun though wasn’t it? You trying to talk to me every minute someone wasn’t watching. Setting up cameras to record it, trying to trick me into saying something to get your sanity back. Ah. We had a blast, you and me. Then you started to break down like a wuss so I stepped in.”
“I don’t need a run down of your twisted view of what happened. I was there! Besides, I didn’t break down; I just started treating you like a regular cat and you didn’t like it. You’re spoiled.”
“I’m a cat. We are to be worshipped, silly human boy.”
“They should have never let you watch TV.”
“Bazinga!”
“NO. Absolutely not. No Big Bang Theory quotes allows in the conversation vicinity, henceforth.”
“What are you working on over there? Or were working on since all you’ve been able to do since I walked in here is talk to me and stare at me clean myself like some sick twisted pervert.”
Aghast, I argued, “I wasn’t watching you clean yourself, you delusional feline! And I’m working on this portrait piece.”
“Ah yes. I’ve been trying to help you with that. Pointing out areas that need work and where to ad more shadow and texture. Sometimes, you have to get right there on top of it to get the whole feeling!”
“Yes, I wish you wouldn’t continually try to sit on top of it while I’m working.”
“Are you turning your nose at free help? I offer constructive criticism and you think you’re too good to take it in? Where’s you big money bag full of successful hopes and dreams you always wanted, Mr. Big Shot Painter Guy?”
“HEY NOW! Not fair! I’m working on stuff and moving along the path! It’s diligence and besides, you’re a friggin cat! Not an art teacher.”
“But I’m a viewer. I’m who you’re painting those for, am I not? You once said you never paint for yourself but for everyone else to take your work. Is that still true?”
“Yeah I guess it is,” I say. He was tossing me around this conversation like a novice in a debate. I was repeatedly thrown off guard by a surprise question which kept me interested to see where he was going.
“So, let me ask you: if you paint for everyone else, that means you don’t paint for you, so are the paintings at the level they should be? Are you creating artwork that you’ve always wanted to create?”
“Now it’s your turn to calm the hell down. Mr. I’m-A-Psychologist-Cat-All-Of-A-Sudden! And yes and no! I recently wrote about that and a good friend of mine replied with something along the lines of, “Don’t force it. When the true painting is created, it will flow out of you. But you can’t set out to create the one that evokes emotion the way you want.” Which I liked. I stopped stressing over it and have taken a step back to let things naturally unfold.”
“I’ve noticed. Which is why I asked.”
“You asked that vague question in the beginning just to find out why I wasn’t creating as much artwork? Why didn’t you just ask that?”
“Because, boy,” he said with smug look because he knows I hate it when he calls me that, “I wasn’t sure if it was caused by something else, something deeper and more serious. I wouldn’t want you getting so caught up on your sadness that you forget to keep me fed.”
He was lying about his reasons but I appreciated the tactic.
“Everyday I try to be more and more cat-like, OJ. And everyday I’m making progress towards it.”
“What does that mean? Are you going to start cleaning yourself like I do? Is that why you always watch me?” I’m going to throw something at that fur-ball!
“Smart ass. I meant it in your philosophical way. To be confident and content where you are with drive and expectation to better the future. To get it done because you have to.”
“I wouldn’t necessarily say we cats do things because we have to get it done. But I see where you’re going with it.”
“You can’t just agree, can you? You always point something out.”
“Would you rather I let you be an imbecile? I will answer for you, no. You missed your chance at ignorant-bliss long ago.”
“Oh wise one! How I devote my time to thee!” I put my hands out and begin bowing from my seat in a dramatic fashion. Trying to bop him on the head when I got close to him. He took that as a sign for pets and moved closer. I got suckered in to ear scratches and head pets.
“What triggered this conversation this morning? You’ve seen me work on personal paintings over the last week and a half and didn’t say a word.”
“My food bowl is empty.”
