It’s wacky dance time. I always forget how
exciting window-washing can be. For cats.
Not me. Specifically, washing the sliding glass
door on the back porch. I just step outside with
a roll of paper towels and glass cleaner, spray
the door, tear off a paper towel, and wipe,
my hand moving in circles, cleaning, cleaning,
cleaning, removing layers of dirt and grime
blown in from the forest. And that’s all it takes.
Visual catnip. That’s what window-washing is.
Unable to resist, my cats hurl themselves at the
door, leaping up, slapping the paper towel,
attacking it through the glass, dancing on the
tips of their toes, as I wipe the door from top
to bottom, slowly, slowly, my hand flowing
in a circular motion, several sets of paws
slapping at every move I make. A wacky dance
frenzy. My cats. Hurling themselves in the air.
Abandoning all. To dance, to dance, to dance.
And I’m no different. Simple pleasures inspire
their joy. My joy. I need that too. A simple
pleasure. For cats, it’s window-washing, the
chance to bounce off the sliding glass door
and perform a wacky dance. For me. What
is it? What is it? My simple pleasure. At
this moment. What is it? It’s backpack purses.
Yes, I’m still obsessed with them. Today,
I’m in the mood for change. I think I’ll switch
from my olive green backpack to my black
one, the one with the lime green stitching.
Just thinking about it makes me smile. I’m
like a cat. Simple pleasures. That’s all it takes.
To celebrate life. To find the joy. This day.
Any day. Just paper towels. Window-washing.
Backpacks. And wacky, wacky dancing.
Laura Stamps is a narrative poet and the author of several books: THE YEAR OF THE CAT, IN THE GARDEN, CAT DAZE, TUNING OUT, and more. Winner of the Muses Prize. Recipient of 7 Pushcart Prize nominations. Shortlisted in the Loft Books Poetry Competition. Twitter: @LauraStamps16.