The Importance of Play

The other day I was coming downstairs, totally engrossed in all my recent stresses. I’ve been worrying myself about things I don’t really have total control over --- so much so that I’ve had bizarre dreams of angry disco bees and black fire ants (I know fire ants are not black… they’re red… but work with me here… it was a dream).

And there it was --- a wistful request for attention.

My cat Daisy is pretty no nonsense. When she’s hungry, she does the stare. When she’s angry, she flips and slaps her tail. When she’s trying to lure you into your own demise, she offers her belly for a rub (makes it easier for her to nail your unsuspecting hand).

When she wants to play, she either sits by her favorite toy or she puts it someplace to let you know it’s time to engage with her. I mean really, how am I supposed to resist this face?

So we play. I “tease” her with the felt mouse. She keeps her claws sheathed. It’s all very civilized… and accompanied by the soundtrack of her purr.

Life will get in the way of living if you let it. Sometimes you need someone who doesn’t speak to jolt you out of the mindset of “I’m overwhelmed and I just don’t want to create until I get all my ducks in a row.”… (Incidentally, I’ve never really seen ducks line up in a row… they adopt more of a loose hangout).

My stresses are still present. But I think I’m better equipped to deal with them now that I’ve had a bit of playtime.