I woke up heavy and sad. I'd had dreams all night long about having my heart broken. She left me for another. One of the cats died in my arms. Spring came, but no flowers grew.
I talked myself out of bed with promises of my favourite breakfast, a new concoction of chia seeds, mediterranean yogurt, maple syrup, and coconut. I made the mistake of turning my back, though. The cats love this breakfast, too.
Onion tipped the bowl with his paw, and the sticky goop hit the stool, the cupboards, the floor. Two more cats raced in to see what the first had done. Everyone got their feet in it, smeared it up and down the hallway while I ran screaming, mad, booming "I FUCKING HATE YOU AND YOUR YOGURT FEET. IF I SEE YOU, YOU WILL DIE." My own voice scared me. It dipped low and growled. I hoped the neighbours were all at work.
The cats scattered further, dragging more yogurt to more places. I yelled while I wiped up what I could find. I hissed at the cats to keep them away and safe from me. I tried to think about all the things that were right to drag myself back.
After some order was in place, I noticed that the yogurt bowl was still nearly half full. I began to talk softly, "here kitties, baby kitties, sorry kitties, I'm kind again." I showed them the little spots on the floor where I had left yogurt for them. "This is for you," I said.
I sat down and pushed my back up against a cupboard. We ate, all of us on the floor, until we were done, and then two of the cats lay against my legs so we could nap together, too, on the hardwood next to their kibble.
It was better for a while.