I poured a can of beer in my crock pot this morning and slid the corned beef in. I love this meal. I love my crock pot slaving away for me all day! I had aimed to get the red-brined beef on sale for the season but when I got to the check-out stand it didn’t ring up at the sale price. The cashier called the meat department for me and we found out that I had picked up the more expensive cut, the flat cut, it was on sale, but not by as much. I thought for a moment and decided to keep it. Living “high on the hog” for one day instead of so “close to the bone” as we have been.
As I cut up my potatoes, carrots and onions to add to the pot, I thought about what happened last night. I feed my horse Lakota in the smaller paddock because she gets alfalfa and the donkey’s can have only grass hay. I opened the back door to move Lakota to the north pasture so the herd could be together through the night and marveled at how bright it was. The moon isn’t full but it is headed that direction. As Lakota stepped towards the open gate, her head snapped up and her body was taut with pure focus. I looked where she was looking and saw it moving in the corn field. Quiet, dark, large. The silhouette moved with its nose to the ground, looking for a moonlight meal. I am sure it was coyote, not a threat to a full grown horse and I do believe the two mini donkeys could hold their own, but it looked large enough to be a wolf. I was urging Lakota through the fence so that I could close the gate when I saw my cat. The large white triangle on her chest glowed in the moonlight ~ like a neon sign advertising the “blue plate special.”
I called to her but she seemed frozen in her crouch. Making an executive decision, I snatched her up and moved toward the house. She was not happy. Even on a good day she doesn’t like for me to carry her around; if I pick her up she wants me to stand still. She squirmed violently to position herself so she could keep an eye on the dark predator. I held her firmly and she growled, low and deep, her unhappiness with me. As I neared the door she made another desperate attempt to free herself, but I only tightened down on her, thankful for the coat sleeves between my arms and her claws. I finagled the door open as she continued to struggle. I told her quietly how much I loved her and how happy I was we were both safe inside. Gently I lowered her to the floor. I know that she would have landed on her feet but I did not want her to leap out of my grip and fall to the ground. I stroked her softness as I bent down; I was sure she would rush away from me as she has done in the past. But this time she got her feet underneath her, sat on the tile and looked up at me.
She recognized the difference. I wasn’t holding her down to push a pill down her throat, past those razor sharp teeth, which sometimes makes my heart beat too fast. My intent was different. I had been holding her tightly, with love in my heart my purpose was protection. Now we could both relax in the comfort of our home. She ate a snack before coming into the living room. She plopped up on the couch and lay on my chest as I took a few minutes to wind down from another busy day. It is all about intent.
No comments:
Post a Comment