I write;I think;I know.

Catcher in the Rye

"Where are you," said my cat.

"Everywhere and nowhere," I admitted. "Trying to cope becomming unstuck in time. I lost an anchor, a thing I would use to tell me where the ends of the week were."

"Can you not fix it," suggested my cat. "Or replace it."

"Certainly I can replace it," I conceeded, "in a sense I already have. But for now it is the broken anchor that concerns me."

"Your thoughts are in something of a turmoil," smiled my cat, "I'm having trouble locking on."

"Would a target painter help," I asked inticating the dog with a gesture.

"Don't be silly," said my cat. "Dogs can't speak."

"reply, respond, react," muttered the dog as I tricked the relevant operational paramaters out of its mind.

"interface, mimic, overcome," announced my cat. "Before you ask," she added with a purr.

"Got it yet," I asked my cat.

"Back-step," I admitted eventually.

"No matter how you look at it," said my cat, "what happened yesterday upset you. To the extent that you left the room the moment the case-worker you were trying to have a discussion with effectively asserted her choice without attempting a discussion."

"My views," I admitted, "do seem to matter little."

"Tell me," said my cat, "of the last occasion a fair compromise was worked-out."

"I can't," I growled. "I can see the moment. I can even remember most of what got written on the final agreement. But whenever I try to pull more from the moment, to tell of what I see, I begin to see more in this moment."

"You're being manipulated," said my cat. "What's been said since that agreement was put in place."

"Not much," I accepted. "Various words have been exchanged, but the last official word I heard the case was closed subject to supervision."

"Supervision of whom," asked my cat.

"That was never stated," I accepted. "Of the case perhaps."

"But nothing official since," said my cat with concern.

"Well" I began, "my wife is saying one thing, my social worker another. I'm confused. Normally I'd wait for it to resolve, few weeks perhaps. But last time I waited it took a year for a nobody to say a nothing. And I've begun to see that in the heart of a child a week is a long time."

"Do you believe it," said my cat. "That your wife says things," she asked asked, "behind your back which have a detrimental effect on the ongoing relationship with your children."

"It's not I belief," I asserted, "I know it to be true. My son accidentally let something slip. My doubts now are to do the magnitude of the effect."

"Is there anything," said my cat, "you can do to force a resolution. To resolve the position to a point where the confusion collapses."

"I've been trying," I admitted, "yet as I saw yesterday, discussing it with me is not a priority. Rather, the priority appears to force me into another's model of how the world should be with as little explination as possible."

"It's not that you object to that reality," said my cat, "it's merely the means by which you find yourself arriving there. In a sense you're being pushed to a point where all you can do is act dysfunctionally. A bit of understanding and communication would perhaps make it easier for all."

"I look at the future," I accepted. "When I look at it through the eyes of yesterday I see more of the uncertainty. Months of it. Yet it's not as if I'm a million miles away," I muttered as I looked-up at the ceiling. "Yet if I'm such a problem what's the deal with the totally non-urgent way the case has been dealt with."

"But is there anything," said my cat, "which you can do today."

"Well," I admitted, "my wife has been given instructions. Perhaps if she was to find opportunity to act upon them somebody may come and talk to me about it."

"So what do you want," said my cat.

"Having the facts," I replied, "presented to the relevant parties would be useful. Although I'm not sure I'm ready to inform the children that Mummy has been known to lie, and with regards to me her reason can not be considered impartial."

"The problem with these sorts of assertion," said my cat, "is that you're expected to share the evidence. Which, unfortunately, drags the conversation of a tangent when the accused mounts a defence."

"I'm getting tired," I sighed, "that the means of defence is so often to find a way to cause me to accept blame. To evoke my demons and place them in the room."

"When you've not got a leg to stand on," said my cat, "distraction is a useful tool. And given that you're willing to be so open and honest about your disability it is also a very easy thing to do when you're involved."

"It's getting to the point," I conceeded, "where it's going to tip-over and become a legal matter. Which I have to say leaves me lost and floundering wondering what to do."

"Can the system itself," said my cat, "not support you."

"Perhaps," I nodded, "I'm lead to understand getting arrested is a remarkable efficient way to find a Solicitor. Although as with most things system related I expect the reality differs from the mass preception."

"You never know," said my cat, "until you try."