Meet Hefner, our green-eyed Russian Blue foster cat.
He was always playing a game with me. I just didn’t know it.
Nor did I know exactly which game it was,
when it was my turn, what the rules were or how to win.
Like when I’d stop to pick up yet another of his toys
“Hefner!” I’d grouse as I reached down to pick up after him
Suddenly he’d race by, snatch it up,
drop it ten feet away and disappear. For a couple hours.
Or, like when we placed that pair of fluffy red lobster magnets on the fridge,
he’d come by when we weren’t looking,
grab ‘em and take them back to his lair.
How did he even reach them? Again.
Or, while I was lounging in the rocker, deep into a best seller, and suddenly
--from the nether land of fur balls and dust bunnies--
I’d feel a claw swipe at my heel. Hmm. Hefner.
I wonder, sometimes, if life isn’t playing the same game,
Keeping me guessing, keeping me gaming, keeping me going,
reminding me that, right here and right now,
this moment has a whole lot more play in it than I realize.
It’s a kind of standing invitation.
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