Women are like cats. They like attention but not too much
and on their terms, are independent and self-sustainable, move around a room
like they own it, like to sleep as much as possible, like to cuddle but only
when they want to, and can disappear for hours doing their own thing with no-one
really knowing what that is.
Women are like cats in that they can claw their way out of a
fight, just as easily as they can start one.
But most of all, they are like cats in the sense that they
can reciprocate the love you show them and be the source of your serenity.
Charity was the most cat-like girl Jessop had ever met. He
could almost swear to hear her purr when she fell asleep in his arms. She
fought for her autonomy and demonstrated that she could handle her affairs on
her own. But every now and again she would crawl to his side and press into his
chest for a tight hug, something that would make all the troubles she didn’t
share just go away.
Jessop liked that she was dynamic and feisty. But he loved
it more when she became the vulnerable, chirpy girl he fell in love with. After
all, every man adores being the protector of his girl.
But over the past weeks, something happened. It was as if
the cat inside her curled up and hid from the world. She wouldn’t talk much,
her smile had faded and she barely ate. She wouldn’t respond to his questions,
even getting agitated by them and would retreat to her bed, sleeping more than
the usual hours.
One morning, Jessop woke up to find a note on his bedstand:
“If I show you I need
you, take it seriously. It means more than just the words you understand. I do
whatever I can to never have to depend on anyone, to avoid showing weakness and
fear. But if I tell you I need you by my side, it means I am trusting you to catch
me when I fall”.
The note was stained with droplets of tears.
Jessop sprung out of bed, got dressed and left.
He knew where she was. Cats always have a safe place.
Somewhere they think no-one knows about, but if you follow them closely they’ll
let you find them.