This entry came from reader Yokohamamama, whose eponymous blog I’ve mentioned before. If you’re interested in things Japanese, including kittehs, birds, plants, and food, have a look (and check out her 11 favorite songs). The cat is not hers, but who cares?
This kitteh is in fact a neighbor’s kitteh and not my own (my kitteh, Clio, is in Arizona taking care of my mom since her liver transplant). I don’t know his name, and he doesn’t allow me to get close to him, but we have a nodding acquaintance. I see him nearly every day when I put the futons out to air. He’s usually draped across the roof of another neighbor’s silver sports car, languidly sunning himself in luxurious tranquility. On this particular day, as I was returning from a morning walk, I looked up and was surprised to see him perched on the roof—hardly a comfortable posture. I watched for several minutes, but he never moved or blinked. I could only assume, given his expression, that he had repented of his luxurious lifestyle and was doing his early morning Zazen on the ridgepole as penance for his sins. Caption: “I can haz Buddah Nacherz”