The Cat Who Listens to Rain
It has been raining heavily for two days. In Dutch, we call it wisselvallig weer—weather where clear skies break into fields of clouds, rain, and sudden showers, with the wind rising and falling from time to time. The sun and the rain take turns appearing, making the days unpredictable.
My cat has chosen the shelter of the house. He dislikes the wet season, yet his eyes follow the birds slicing through the rain, and the drops that gather and vanish in the small puddle on the roof. Surely he belongs to nature more than I do. He feels the storm before it comes, the wind before it stirs, the sun as it rises and fades—even in his dreams. In his eyes there is no good or bad weather, no pretty or ugly garden—only the pure instinctive joy of existence.
We humans chase beauty, when in truth it is nature we should behold. Not in the floral pattern of a purse, nor in the expensive painting on a wall, nor even in the princess of a fairy tale. Beauty lives in the face of my little cat, in the flower blooming from wild soil, in the cloud drifting across a mountain peak, and in the smile on your face.
Leave a Reply