He’s been in the kitchen sink to watch. The neighbor across the way has been moving. There are a lot of things to keep track of across the street.

My cat Simon has a good life, but it is highly contained within the walls of our house. This is his everything. Well, sometime he will make a foray onto the back patio. He’s found a way to pry an incompletely closed back door with his paw. He will go out there to taste the grass, and then return inside. I will go back inside to find the back door open (What!) and him sitting with all feet tucked under his body as if he’d never moved.

Except his ears and slanted back. The outdoors is painfully shocking.

But the biggest part of his small world?

The food dish.

The twice daily serving of food are the two poles his world revolves around. He does not let me forget what time it is.

I know his world is small. And I am the one who provides for him. I have to be responsible.

He and I are not that different. My world is not that bigger. My day includes a few more places than his. But not that many.

Kitty has been struggling. His food is not quite right. He’s not eating his food.

He has become convinced that somewhere out there—he doesn’t know how—there is a better choice.

As his person, with the bigger world, I have to help his with this mystery. What else does the world have in it?

I bring him offerings. Will turkey giblet pate serve?
Yes. For a few days.
But then again….
No.

We have gone through liver. Tuna and whitefish.

Sometimes he likes it to be there, untouched, while he eats his regular dry kibble. Just a little bit.

I even gave him canned tuna. Which was exciting for a day.

He was under distress. This process was not comfortable for him. He was licking himself bald and worse.

The vet got involved.

But we have come to equilibrium. We wandered all the way through the wilderness, and discovered that he liked his original food after all.

There were some paths he needed to walk down. Rough, unfamiliar territory that he had to experience.

We had some communications that had to be refined. More brushings.

There were things I needed to know that he had to find a way to tell me.

It was a portfolio of things. And it was a set of experiences he had to have to arrive at this understanding.

His world is small.

My kitty is telling me that homeostasis is not good enough. That he and I can have more. He didn’t settle and I don’t’ have to either. Things can change for the better. The view out the window changes and I can too.