It’s not always easy to make oneself seen, heard, and understood. Sometimes it just feels too overwhelming and too exhausting to try. But, this is the very heart of what every individual wants and needs.
Of course, if you were a particularly adorable, exceedingly sweet, young cat, being seen would mean everything. If you were, in particular, a calico cat named Lost, making a lot of noise would be the key to being heard. But, what, exactly what, does each squeak, chirp, and shout mean? Has Lost found the answer to the Riddle of the Sphinx? Does she just want some pets and cuddles? Does Lost seek to find treats? Cat-onese can be so confusing!
It seems highly probable, in the sense of being wholly and entirely unlikely, that Lost spends considerable energy in explicating about the differences between satire and farce. She practically falls all over herself with excitement while trying to get her point across! Surely, Lost’s antics are fairly far along the way to becoming slapstick, and slapstick is the finest form of farce (Trust me, I looked it up!).
Or, maybe…just maybe, Lost has found and voraciously devoured a copy of The Three Musketeers and is desperately pleading for a musket of her very own. With a target to practice on, she shall become D’Artagnan incarnate! Lost shall swagger mightily and save the queen of France…or Josie…and have epic adventures.
Maybe Lost is just trying to hear herself. Lost certainly has not discovered the reason for having two ears while only one mouth (listening being the more important skill). Lost has not determined that successful communication flows in two directions (one has to be willing to listen in order to be heard). Yet, without trowel, sieve, or bucket, Lost has unearthed a treasure trove of attentive listeners, who are also valuable for providing pets and snacks.
But, what if loving attention isn’t all that Lost is questing for? What if Lost is pursuing a degree in fine arts? What if she is shouting for a deluxe art set, complete with drawing pads, charcoals, paints, crayons, colored pencils, and a fine case to keep them in? What if Lost is pleading for oil, easel, and canvas?
What if the thing that Lost most wants in the entire world is to partner with Sketch to draw up blueprints for a giant slide that will start above the skylight in Quinn’s Corner, swoop outside over Cherny’s Garden, have a hydraulic boost to assist a climb high above the lobby, then swooshing down with a magnificent landing in the kitchen… ideally into a full bucket of kibble?
Whatever Lost keeps talking about, ultimately, nobody will ever be able to help us fully understand exactly what Lost is always trying to say. What matters is that, as with all of the cats that have ever found their voices at Tabby’s Place, Lost is seen, heard, and absolutely adored exactly as she is. No translation needed.