This morning I was awoken from my slumber by my neighbor B who takes care of a neighborhood feral cat colony a mere half block from my feral herd. A handsome cat with a collar and tag had followed her and she need to stash him some place safe until she could make some calls and find the owner. After spending the last week in a depressive funk, my house was a complete mess. I was a complete mess. But, I can’t resist an animal in need, so we stashed this very friendly, handsome tabby boy in my office while B ran home so she could locate the owner. Long story short; kitty whose name is Neighborhood, had strayed pretty far afield of his own, but his owner was happy to come get him. Turns out, he was only recently adopted from the Contra Costa Pound where he was on death row. I’m glad he found a home.
The question I was batting around all day was “what’s next”. I have this altruistic urge, need even, and I just have to figure out how to channel it. In a conversation with my darling friend F, he suggested I try hospice, or sit with old people, or work with kids. While they are all very worthy things to do (particularly hospice), nothing got me excited. I would love to be able to do hospice, but I’m not sure if, at this point, I can meet all the commitments. The other suggestion didn’t really fly because I’m uncomfortable with both children and old people. I might be able to help with literacy or tutoring adults. But, mostly I think where I would have some passion and ease would be with animals.
A friend of mine, who is cheering me on, told me I should feel free to make this a messy process. Mistakes will be made. And that’s OK. Good even. I’ve always had a tendency to just fall into things – jobs, relationships, places to live – and just kinda stay there because it was tolerable. I need to move beyond tolerable. I need some juice back in my life.