Caged

From the kitchen window of my second story apartment, I enjoy a view of grass, trees and small wildlife. I also see the patio on the ground floor of a neighbouring building.

Last spring, a long, high, wooden table was set up on their patio and housed a variety of plants. This year, instead of plants, a large wire cage was placed on top of this stand. My curiosity was aroused.

Later in the day, I saw the reason for this cage. An orange tabby cat lay peacefully inside. Not only could it enjoy the fresh air, but from this vantage point, see what was going on nearby. Someone told me later this was called a catio. I thought it was an ingenious idea!

A few days later, I watched a black squirrel scamper down from a tree and across the lawn. As it approached the neighbouring patio, the caged cat crouched down with its rear end slightly raised. It was getting ready to pounce when the squirrel got close enough. After creeping forward, the tabby must have remembered his confinement and lay back down. I could almost feel the cat’s disappointment.

As I thought about this scene, I wondered why it resonated with me. Perhaps, like the tabby, I have also felt caged at times. This is not always a bad thing.

My conscience can act as a cage to keep me safe. Temporary disappointment at being held back from something I wanted to do or say, later turns to gratefulness for a mistake not made. I experience both freedom and restraint. This keeps me safe from harm and regret. More importantly, it helps to protect others from my careless actions.

My personal cage sounds like a positive thing. Instead of a catio, I have a Tandio!