Screens

hobbitonStaring at  my writing, I heard what I thought was our younger cat pulverizing the bedroom window’s screen, as he does when he’d like to be let inside, despite the little Hobbiton upside-down-U’s we had cut in pertinent doors, just for felines. But when I ran to investigate (because writers will love distraction), I discovered the sounds were coming from inside a dresser drawer. When I pulled the drawer open, our older cat, Al, blinked at me accusingly. I’d coffin-ized him. Not sure for how long. I rushed him to his food bowl with apologies and a scoop of holistic wet mush the pet person said was crucial for older cats. I watched Al for a bit, worrying. He ate, he bathed, he curled up on the dog’s bed and slept, hours…

I try to think of it not as writer’s block, but as a stressfully strict, seasonal (Fall Fall Darkest Fall–in Southern California!) gestational period. I’m coffin-ized–eyes wide open, roof-span right there, each natural whorl so close. I want to see, I insist (tired). I want to see.

Hobbiton exhibited at an airport. Or was it a train station? Public Hobbiton. The mind wanders...

Public Hobbiton.

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About PB Rippey

Writer, wife, mother, activist, fortunate.
This entry was posted in Avoiding My Writing, Children's Books, dog, Faction, Writing, WTF and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Screens

  1. Beth Hull says:

    Poor Al! But every time fall rolls around, I crave a small padded space. With plenty of air, and heat. Blankets, some nice gloves. And some cake, of course.
    Hang in there, friend. The words will come back.

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