insufficient substitution

Your kitten is in your lap again, crying, and whining, and trying to cuddle and snuggle with you. You stroke her head and her back, and she coos. It’s almost at though it is a poor subsitution for what she really would need in order to feel comfortable–she would need to mate.

And as she kneads your chest, and treads her back legs, and buries her face in the crook of your arm, it occurs to you that you two are not so different. Except that you want the snuggles, and the cuddles, and the kisses, and the backrubs, and the love and affection. But instead you settle for other things. It is enjoyable for a time, but a poor substitution.

And realizing she’s not getting what she wants from you, she abandons you, trying instead your father or your mother as you all sit watching television. And realizing you’re not getting what you want, you move on to the next person. You both are satisfied for a short time, but ultimately dissappointed.

And she cries, and she paws at you, looking up at you with those big sad eyes. And you want to cry for her, knowing you can’t help her right now. And you want to cry for yourself, knowing you don’t want to help you right now.

On the surface you’re okay with not getting what you want. You’re not as vocal about your frustration as a kitten in heat. Maybe you don’t even realize your frustration; you don’t even realize it’s there until a claw digging through your sweater to your soft flesh forces you to think about it.

But you put it out of your mind because it doesn’t matter right now.