Fig's appetite has been a bit off since yesterday. The weather turned cold suddenly, after several days of unseasonable heat, and I brought him in off the porch at night, worried that he might be more susceptible to illness since he is being treated with a steroid. I know he prefers to be outside as much as possible, so I wonder if being denied unlimited access to his outdoor sanctuary has diminished his food lust. We often speak of being in the great outdoors as giving us an appetite; perhaps the same is true for cats. They are, after all, wild creatures at heart, even though they enjoy their warm spots to nap and favored treats to eat. A normal appetite is but one outward signal of a healthy, balanced state. When a domestic cat or a human being connects with nature, it is possible we connect with our true inner nature - the artifice of forced domesticity fades into the background and we are awakened to our appetite for life. And to live, we must eat.
But today, even bacon and his treasured bonito flakes have not tempted Fig. He seems interested in food, but won't eat. He is restless, and paces back and forth between the house and the porch, as if he isn't sure which world he wants to be in. As I write this, he has chosen to settle behind me on the back of the sofa. Hopefully he'll dream of bounding through tall grasses in his beloved outdoors, and wake up ready to devour his prey.
I can remember, as a child, being bothered by a call to dinner, because life was too exciting, and I was too involved in whatever play activity occupied my hours. As I got older, however, dinner became the play activity. Maybe Fig is returning to that kitten stage, where he just is too involved in absorbing life to stop and eat.
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