The Diary
of
Anne Ku
13 November 2000 Monday
MISTER TIDWORTH
My ginger tom cat is a weather sensor. He acknowledges and respects the changeable English weather. When it's raining and windy like this, he would rather lie indoors. If I'm lucky, he would jump on my lap while I write my diary entries.
My piano stool gets the morning sun. He likes to sleep there too. In fact, he sleeps everywhere.
While I was staying indoors, nursing my cold, I started playing this syncopated progression. I'm so weary of playing anything without music because it would undoubtedly lead to inventing a new tune. And when I start a piece, I must finish it. Such is my enslavement. Such is my cat to me -- unconditional love.
His best friend worships him. The sleep grey feline creature, Mister Tigworth, comes by looking for the chubby, lazy ginger Mister Tidworth, but dares not come in. My cat would go away for days on end, especially if I have been away. He has been caught sleeping in my neighbours' beds, stealing their food, and goodness what else. In the words of my neighbour,"No food tastes better than that which was stolen...."
I could learn from my cat - just sleep, eat, and hunt. Sometimes I wish I was my cat. Such a fluff ball, he is. His purr is a roaring engine. Apparently stroking a cat is very stress relieving.
