Cats Coffee Sunday

As soon as I opened the door onto the porch this morning my cat, Ella, darted out. By the time I got my coffee and came back to sit down she was chewing on one of the two ferns. This is part of the reason why all my plants are either dead or look like apocolyptic leftovers.  Zombie plants if you will.  So I yell at her and she makes a hasty retreat knocking down an empty metal planter as she goes. The noise scares our other cat, Bella, back into the house. I watch as Ella walks around sniffing and jumping onto anything and everything as if she's never explored this vast and sunny place. She sniffs out my coffee and ignores me as I try to snap a picture of her. Something catches her eye, she freezes in place for a split second, her head scoops down and I see her nose twitch. She gingerly unfurls from sitting to standing like cats do and jumps down to investigate this curious find.  But it is only part of the fern leaf she chewed off earlier.  She settles in to finish her snack, stopping occassionally to look at me with the leaf suspended  from her whiskers, as if its floating at the edges of her mouth in wait.  I suppose she is expecting to be rebuked but the damage is done and I'm more interested in sipping my coffee.  She finishes, licking her chops as if she's just devoured a fine feast, and saunters over to the lounger. She looks up, squinting at the sun, she looks like she's smiling. She jumps up and settles comfortably into the cushion. As if sensing Ella's level of relaxation and taking it as a threat, Bella has come back onto the porch and bee-lined it to Ella.  Ella senses her foe and defends her position, swatting as Bella goes up on her two hind legs and falls away and trots off, ears back. Bella goes to stand under the other fern, the one yet to be molested - today. If cats could whistle, I swear she would be. And have her paws neatly clasped and twiddling her little thumbs too. I wait. I sip. Ella decides she's safe, yawns, stretches out, eys closed, head aloft. I hear the immenent rustling. I say "No" long and low and Bella cowers off, flopping onto the floor and looking at me with such longing.  This makes me wonder if ferns taste like chocolate to cats. I wonder why I bring them onto the porch with me. If I truly wanted peace and quiet, I would close the door, locking them out.  Then I see Ella sunning on the lounger. And Bella flopping back and forth on the floor like a fish out of water while making her happy squeaky-chirp sounds and I know why. They remind me to do the same. Relax. Lay in the sun. Be curious. Sniff things out. Eat chocolate. Defend your lounger. Be in the moment. Stretch. Smile at the sun.  No wonder the Egyptians held cats in such high regard. Look at what they teach us.