For the two days that the kitten is at the vet's to be spayed, the house is eerily quiet and composed. The sense of watchfulness that we have all become accustomed to is missing and the silence is unnerving. It's peaceful and calm but it's not right, not exactly in balance with that one small element of chaos absent. I leave early to pick her up, anxious to have her back home, and the moment I free her from the carrier and her little feet hit the floor, mayhem breaks out. As expected, the adult cats spit and snarl and swat at her but the dogs go wild, landing on her in an ecstasy of welcome and excitement. Hello, chaos, welcome home. Since she's only been gone 48 hours, domestic relations are re-established shortly after supper and by the time everyone gathers on the bed, there's relative harmony. I stretch out among this collection of cast offs, trying to find enough room to be comfortable without causing any undue disturbance. Cats curl up behind my knees and perch on my hip, dogs lay claim to all the pillows. The kitten is the last to arrive - she launches her small self with a distinct little mew - landing with a soft thud directly on top of the little dachshund. He stretches, yawns, and shifts his position to make a place for her and both are asleep in a matter of minutes, her head resting on his paws and his on my shoulder.
The thought comes to me that all things being relative, love and chaos are somehow linked, that on some level, you can't have one without the other.
There's more than a little madness in sharing life with three dogs and five cats. I think in terms of animal care - how long can I leave them alone, is there enough dry food left, did I lock the back door - and of course the ever popular, oh, Good Lord, another vet bill. And I confess, there are mornings when I envy those friends who are not at the mercy of such thoughts. They have clean houses and nice things and get to come and go at will. They shop for actual groceries at the grocery store. I doubt they make weekly resolutions about cat hair on the curtains and dog art on the windows. It's unlikely they replace vacuum cleaners every few months (knock on wood) or worry overly much about carpet stains, shredded furniture, or broken venetian blinds. They know what it's like to sleep in on a Saturday and come home at the end of the day to a mayhem-free house.
I, on the other hand, make it a point to dust and scrub and polish without my glasses. If I don't see the dust bunnies, they can't call my name.
Love and chaos. That's relativity.
The thought comes to me that all things being relative, love and chaos are somehow linked, that on some level, you can't have one without the other.
There's more than a little madness in sharing life with three dogs and five cats. I think in terms of animal care - how long can I leave them alone, is there enough dry food left, did I lock the back door - and of course the ever popular, oh, Good Lord, another vet bill. And I confess, there are mornings when I envy those friends who are not at the mercy of such thoughts. They have clean houses and nice things and get to come and go at will. They shop for actual groceries at the grocery store. I doubt they make weekly resolutions about cat hair on the curtains and dog art on the windows. It's unlikely they replace vacuum cleaners every few months (knock on wood) or worry overly much about carpet stains, shredded furniture, or broken venetian blinds. They know what it's like to sleep in on a Saturday and come home at the end of the day to a mayhem-free house.
I, on the other hand, make it a point to dust and scrub and polish without my glasses. If I don't see the dust bunnies, they can't call my name.
Love and chaos. That's relativity.
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