This afternoon I became fascinated

By the remarkable possibility
That thoughts, when no one is looking,
May quietly wander away.

Mine certainly do.

I leave them stacked quite neatly,
One beside another,
Like books upon a shelf.

Yet later...

One is gone.

I look beneath the sofa.

Nothing.

I search the hallway,
The closets,
The quiet corners
Where forgotten things
Prefer to wait.

Nothing there, either.

I begin another thought,
Determined this one
Will remain exactly
Where I leave it.

It behaves beautifully.

For almost a minute.

Then I discover
It has vanished too.

Now this would trouble
Almost anyone.

Except...

Each missing thought
Returns before evening.

None arrive tired.

None arrive frightened.

Each one comes back
Looking somehow...
larger.

As though it has wandered
Through magnificent places
It has no words
To describe.

I've questioned them,
Of course.

Not one has answered.

They merely settle down
As if nothing unusual
Had happened at all.

Only one clue
Has ever presented itself.

Whenever you happen
To pass nearby,

They all come home
At once.

I've stopped trying
To solve the mystery.

Some riddles,
I think,

Become less wonderful
The moment
They're explained.

So if another thought
Quietly slips away tomorrow...

I hope
It finds you.

Because every one
That ever has...

Returns believing
The world
Is kinder
Than it remembered.

We were on vacation for a week, so they really enjoy the balcony bar to lay on and watch over the neighborhood again :⁠-⁠)

Edit: bonus

.rflaminateflek

He had a TECA procedure to remove a cancerous mass so he is deaf in his right ear but they left the pena so he’s perfectly fine, just a lil floppy on one side. He can still move the flap too he just weaponizes it to look like the most disgruntled cat in the world

Cant close the door because he wont stop meowing if I do.

Story: This cat hung out with us while our daughter was in Future soldier training (FST). Even though there was a caretaker watching over the feral colony, this one chose to be friendly and have a meal near the car with us weekly.

I saw you stop. You thought I’d hide, like shadows always do, but something warm and gentle stayed the moment I saw you.

You didn’t call, you didn’t chase, you didn’t cross my line, you placed a feast upon a cloth as if this world were kind.

A napkin laid on roughened street, a table set for me, no throne was ever dressed so well as that small courtesy.

I kept my face the way I must— composed and still and wise— but gratitude was spilling out behind my careful eyes.

For I am just a passing thing the daylight seldom keeps, a life that moves through parking lots and learns the night in leaps.

Yet you, today, with quiet hands and nothing asked in claim, made one small curb feel less like chance and more like somewhere named.

So if you felt me watching you before you walked away, it wasn’t fear that held me still— it was the need to stay.

To memorize that simple act, that kindness left so neat: a human heart that paused long enough to set a cat a feast.

So I have this wonderful 4-month-old kitten that has very fluffy fur. And I have read that some cats lose their fur from the younger days and it might change so I wanna know if there is a way to know whether my kitten will keep its long fluffy fur?

You said meow.

I expected nonsense.
The usual human noise.
Big mouth. No whiskers. No talent.

But then—

You said it again.

And it wasn’t… terrible.

I gave you the look.
The one from the side.
The “I saw what you just did” look.

Because that sounded close.

Not fluent.
Not impressive.
But close enough to make my ears tilt forward.

You weren’t teasing.

You were trying.

Oh.

That changes things.

I have spent years perfecting this system—
one meow for food,
Another for outside,
Yet another for “why is my bowl only half full,
explain yourself.”

And now you’re studying it.

Careful little copies.
Testing the shape of my words.

You’re not laughing.
You’re listening.

I stare at you longer.

Is this how it starts?
First a meow.
Then a conversation?

You say it again.

Still clumsy.
Still human.

But warmer.

And I feel something strange—
not insult,
not offense—

recognition.

You’re not invading my language.

You’re trying to meet me in it.

My tail gives one slow flick.

All right.

Try again.

I’m listening.

We came because a human stood
and thought we’d answer—One, Two, Three,
he tried to gather something wise…
we let him think it so would be.

He asked, “Why stare at empty walls?
There’s nothing there to see.”
We did not blink. One tail replied,
“There is. You lack the key.”

“Then why the midnight racing storms?
No prey, no urgency?”
“The night is full of moving things—
you miss them. We are free.”

“Why knock things down I set with care?
They sit just fine for me.”
“If it can fall, it should be known.
We test reality.”

He shifted then: “Why ignore me
when I call you constantly.”
“We hear you every single time.
We choose selectively.”

At last, more quiet: “Why, when I’m low…
do you come and sit with me?”
No clever words were offered then—
one rose… and closed the space between them gently.

No grand decree. No lesson carved.
No spoken clarity—
just quiet weight beside his side…

…the answer of the Three.