Hugging Thistledown

"Mmeeeaow. Mme. Meaooow." 

The whine cut through my thoughts and broke my concentration as I attempted to navigate my way safely through the garden. Not that the garden is especially dangerous, I just wasn't wearing shoes and really didn't want to spend my evening pulling out thorns or splinters. 

"Mmma. Mmmeeow. Meaaow." 

Without looking back, I knew who it was and I tried to ignore him. It was Thistle, the cat, and he wanted attention. But I wasn't going to give it to him. Heartless, I know, but you've got to realize that this cat's name perfectly matches his personality. He's soft on the outside, but he is a prickly individual and will probably scratch or bite you if you try to touch him without his permission. If you're ever emotionally struggling, don't go to Thistle for comfort because you'll walk away with a few extra scars and more than a little frustration. I think I can count on two fingers the number of times Thistle has actually been nice to me. The first time was when he was younger and still developing his personality, and the other time was when I was laying on the grass and he was licking my hair. Yes, my hair. And I don't think he really cared that it was me, he just wanted my hair for some inexplicable reason. The moment I sat up and tried to pet him, he stalked away. 

"Mm. Mmeeeeeeaooow." 

He'd caught up to me. Now instead of sounding his piercing cry from behind, he cried up at me from in between my feet. I sighed, nudged him out of the way, and bent down to pick a few strawberries. When I stood up, Thistle was still there, staring at me. I stared back so confused because this behavior is completely opposite Thistle's usual "I can take care of myself" attitude. 

As Thistle opened his mouth to whine again, the words, "Thistle just needs a few loves today" entered my mind. What? First of all, who says "loves" like it's a noun? And second, this is Thistle! The cat who never accepts love from anyone (except my brother, who always lets Thistle lick his hair) and always leaves me with cat-scratched arms and holes in my clothes. 

Nonetheless, I was intrigued by the cat's behavior, so I tentatively picked him up and started scratching his head. I can't say he was particularly cuddly. I suppose that would be too out of character for him. But he didn't scratch me, and after a long second he started purring. I think he lasted 60 seconds in my arms before he was ready to be independent again. But instead of leaving, he hung around my feet, followed me back through the garden, and only decided to morph back into full-Thistle when we met the dog at the gate.

As Thistle walked away, I realized that the prickliest cat in the world does have a soft side. He doesn't show it often, but every once in a while, Thistledown emerges and you realize that he's not quite as aloof and uncaring as he tries to seem. Even Thistle needs a few loves every once in a while. 

This got me thinking about the "Thistles" in the world. I don't know about you, but I know a few people who come across as prickly, aloof, unconcerned, and independent. These are the people who don't seem to need anyone, rarely appear grateful, and perhaps even scorn displays of love or affection. There's even a part of me that fits that description. If I'm stressed, frustrated, or exhausted and emotionally can't handle anything else, my Thistle side comes out to protect me. When I'm thistley (not a word, but roll with it), I'm more likely to roll my eyes at people, scoff at kindness, and forget to say thank you. I'm not saying it's a good thing, but just like the thistle plant, it is a defense mechanism. It's my way of protecting myself from... something... anything that seems scary. 

The thing is, every thistle has a downy side. Underneath all the painful prickles, there really is an individual with a soft heart, tender emotions, and perhaps as much pain as they have prickles. But all too often I fail to see the down and focus only on the thistle. I put prickly people in a prickly box. Just like I did with Thistle, when they come asking for help I tend to see them through a haze of past experiences. I tend to judge them and assume that they don't need love or help because they never have before. 

It is hard to see people in a different light. It's hard to accept that people change and that their needs change from moment to moment. It's hard to stop thinking about the past and focus only on the present. So, I suppose this is merely a reminder that thistles and down go together. You can't have a thistle without thistledown. And every once in a while, if you look past the prickles, you might find the person, and in one memorable moment you may find yourself hugging thistledown.