Vin Brocki: Blogging

My wife and I love the two one-year-old cats who live with us. We adopted them through a local no-kill shelter last August. A feral cat had dropped two kittens into a window sill, and after some time in a foster care setting, they joined our household.

In chaotic times, I appreciate the warmth and steadiness of my pets. As you age, the world gets stranger: technology changes, friends disappear, your body negotiates terms daily. But pets remain beautifully uncomplicated.

At 3:14 a.m., one cat sits silently on your chest staring into your face. Not purring, just watching. While the other cat starts pawing at a framed picture on the wall.

Message conveyed.

Cats don’t care about productivity, legacy, politics, or whether your generation understood “real music.” They just want breakfast immediately and affection selectively. And that is a winning combination in a world filled with contrived messages in social media.

No conspiracy theories needed to explain things.

Yes, the expected warmth and companionship includes synchronized furniture destruction and random hallway sprinting at 2 a.m. They launch into air when the nocturnal juices start flowing and take charge of the night.

As you grow older, life slowly becomes a long series of losses disguised as adjustments. Friends and family pass on. Bodies complain. Entire decades somehow become “classic rock.” Yet these two cats still greet each day as if existence itself is in need of discovery. In a strange but reassuring way, the house feels younger because of them.

Not quieter. Certainly not cleaner. But younger.

Apparently, joy is just a hallway sprint at 2 a.m. with a stolen sock.

Vin Brocki, Erie, PA, USA

May 25, 2026