For those of you familiar with my scribbling, I will be revisiting a couple of familiar subjects. I am well-aware that I can blather on about particular topics, but my hope is that some of my readers share similar passions and humour. My hope, however, is to share with you the insight I gain on certain aspects of this journey in an entertaining and informative manner. So, yes, I’m going to talk about my white, plant-killing cat again.

I’ve recently starting taking my 17-year-old cat for sojourns in the great outdoors. For several years, outside expeditions have been rare and anxiety-filled events from which I would often end up sporting angry, red scratches. Despite this ominous history, Oliver and I started taking regular voyages to the outdoor world in February.

Snow still covered the ground and there was little heat to be felt from the sun, but it was still a wonderful world to explore as seen through a cat’s perspective. Fluttering snowflakes were a thing to be chased, as were the valley rabbits visiting the schoolyard across the road. The cool breezes brought scents and the laughter of the school kids at recess.

As we’ve advanced toward summer, Oliver and I have borne witness to the progression of the natural cycle. He was the first to discover spring’s first ladybug and green blades of grass. I introduced him to the amusing spectacle of geese sitting on our rooftop, honking and flapping. He sniffed at neighbours while I made small talk about the weather, impatient for blooming.

I’ve watched lawns green and the sun climb higher in the last few months. I’ve become more connected and aware of my environment through the perspective of a cranky, old cat. The world is born anew with every adventure I take with him. The ever-changing nature of the great outdoors is reflected in those green eyes.

Keri lives in Boyle Street with her husband and cat.