Inside/Outside

Inside the house, he’s a large gray fur ball with a sweet face, green eyes, dignified whiskers, ready purrs and a soft meow.

Outside the house, he stalks and watches, on guard against every threat – and threats are seen in every leaf quiver, heard from every soft rustle to every loud noise.

Inside the house, he curls up in a tight ball and falls into deep motionless slumber with his black paws covering his eyes.

Outside the house, he hunkers against the weather, whatever it may be – cold, raining, snowing, windy – 

Well, not windy. He goes in the house when the wind blows. He does not like the wind.

Outside the house, he forages for his food, grateful to find something to eat.

Inside the house, he sniffs the offerings and attempts to cover the offensive material as though he just let it out of his bowels.

Then he runs for the door and releases his cry,  “Freedom!” I open the door. He flies out. Then I put the bowl of rejected food out — 

And he comes and eats it, for he’s outside the house, where the world is wild, and food is never ignored.