From "Having It Out With Melancholy": Jane Kenyon

6 IN AND OUT
The dog searches until he finds me upstairs,
lies down with a clatter of elbows,
puts his head on my foot.
Sometimes the sound of his breathing saves my life --
in and out, in and out;
a pause, a long sigh. . . .

(a selection from "Having It Out With Melancholy")

I'm in bed with a bad back right now, trying to breathe myself out of the pain. Feeling a lot of empathy for Terri, who feels this many times a week. I chose this selection because of this small furry being, here in bed with me, who keeps putting her soft paw on my shoulder, looking at me with searching eyes, breathing and grounding me. Thank you, Miss Katie.

Pain and comfort. That seems like one wheel of life that keeps coming around and around, in all our lives, doesn't it? I woke up this morning just fine, got up, stretched, and instantly was in pain. I have a bad spot in my back from an old horse-riding accident. Usually, it's just fine. But once or twice a year, it acts up. This pain is somehow related to that spot - somehow, it's weakened or I slept wrong or something, but it woke up and decided to spasm and now my entire upper back and neck are locked in a painful grip. I went to work and got a few things done, hoping that it would relax. Instead, it got sickeningly more painful.

So, I'm home, trying to find comfort. I'm in bed with a heating pad and the electric blanket cranked up, and the heaters on, trying to get my body to relax. I have pain medication. But mostly, I have a soft bed, a quiet and tidy house, and a snuggly little creature giving me love. It makes me want to cry with gratitude, that even in the midst of this icky pain, I have access to such wonderful comfort.

Katie the cat has 'saved my life' many times while Terri's been away, and I know she's saved Terri's many times over the course of her 14-year life so far. She is elderly, arthritic, sick with failing kidneys, grumpy and persnickety often -- but she is also an angel kitty. She is soft like a little bunny. I've never met a more cuddly, snuggly kitty. You can literally wrap your arms around her and fall asleep snuggled up to her (when she's in the mood for it, which is often). She will seek you out and 'ask' to 'hold paws', and she knows when you're sad or in pain, and tries, in her little feline way, to comfort you.

She and I have gotten to know each other over the past years and now I feel very bonded to her. I feel a deep responsibility to take very good care of her, as she does for us.

When she's in pain from the arthritis, I imagine she must feel something like what I'm feeling right now. All you want is comfort, and peace, and love.

In the midst of pain, I am blessed to have these.