animals call home

animals call home

My last apartment move, Atticus didn't like it.
he hated the removal of all of our stuff.
As we worked our way from the front of the apartment
he receded to the back bedroom, finding a hidey hole in
the room-sized walk-in closet, behind a the mattress
leaning against the wall.

Finally, knowing his fright, his dismay,
it was time to capture him.
With my arms stretched out, holding him,
he shook like a leaf, claws extended,
trying to find their mark on my arm.
He growled.
It started me, really, hearing this noise
from my small cat.
It sounded like a lion roar,
only cat-sized.

We arrived at the new unfamiliar apartment.
There was no place familiar for Atticus,
nowhere comfy and homey.
And he wailed, this time like a baby.
Again, he hid, finding a somewhat familiar spot under the bed.
where at least the smell of the sheets was familiar.

Now, a year has passed, and he knows all the new nooks and crannies.
He knows the smell and the location of the litter box.
He feels at home.
I went through the same process,
feeling at home in a place
that is not really mine.

I wonder if wild animals have sense of home,
if they feel like going back to the nest,
to visit mom and dad.
Do they have family reunions, and chat about life?
It is amazing, we humans.

 

© 2008 by Marc S. McCune

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