The keeper left me again, this time for work. And she came home all excited about a project she is going to help on about getting Latino students into parochial schools. She also was going on and on about a sex abuse crisis in Europe and the Pope, etc. I am glad I am a cat.She tells me I am meowing a lot, Like, yeah. I am lonely. I talk to myself and to all of the birds who tantalize me at the foodless bird feeder across from my window perch. She is not there to listen. And she really doesn't understand my language. I meow to go out and she gives me a treat. I meow to be brushed and she lets me out. I meow to eat, and she pets me. I wish there were a Rosetta Stone for Feline Americanus. Oh well, then all the mystery would evaporate.
She left me in the evening to go to the Holy Thursday Service. And she stayed out late because it was long and she ran into friends. She liked the opening of the bishop's homily about betrayal. She didn't know if he was pointing to other issues in the church or not, but guessed he was. Her friend had hoped the bishop would talk about Foolishness of love given the day on which the feast fell. No, it was betrayal. As usual, the Cathedral celebrated well with dignity and a certain simplicity in the midst of the episcopal regalia.
But when she came home, we didn't turn on the tv or the computer. Triduum is always like that for us.
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