2006 Story Set
| Date: Submitted for publication, December 2006 I was lying in bed at the end of a day with a book. I was holding the book propped, laying on my side, when this darling little creature climbed up on the bed, climbed over me, stretched out along my front, belly to belly, put her little head on my arm, draped a paw over my bicep, and after purring like an engine for about 10 minutes in my ear, went soundly and solidly to sleep. Awesome. I didn't dare move and turned my pages quietly. Eventually, an hour or so later, the coffee, soda and supper registered, and I had to get up, so I sort of poured her over my hip onto the bed. She chirrups. She blinks and watches me. If I shower, I find her in the tub afterward. If I open the fridge, her head pops in to check on chicken. She knows where I keep the dish. If I startle her running down the hall, she pauses, poised for launch and then darts past me. If I add a new ball or toy to the floor, she can case them room to room. If I surprise her in other antics, she can slip under one of the three beds like an escape artist. She likes to hide in the drapes (not behind them, in them). Any trip to the kitchen will cause the pounding sound of eight orange furry feet as both tabbies, the old male and the new female, head to the kitchen at a dead run for a demanding chorus of meows, determined that I be reminded that if I am eating (or drinking, or cleaning), then it is perfectly fine for me to slice up some chicken breast. Summer, sweet little kitten, has a "Give me Chicken!" voice. Spoiled rotten. She is a diet-alarm. Good. I needed one. Summer arrived in my care when I made the mistake of stopping to look at the cages Furry Friends had on display while having the dog groomed at PetCo. Normally I can walk on by. Not this time. Something drew me, like a magnet, and stuck me to her cage. She was in an end cage, perfectly still, her tail curled about her, a perfectly little demur lady. I chuckled her under her chin. She sat up like an Eqyptian statue, high chin, straight up and down, paws poised, tail wrapped around her feet. I did not dare hold her. I debated. I hesitated. I checked - yep, a female. I had been looking for some time for a bookend to Ranger because orange Tabbies have the best personalities. I could not, in fact, walk away. Finally, some 15 minutes later, someone woke up to the fact that I was hooked, line and sinker, and shoved adoption papers under my hand. I didn't dare hold her but I brought Trim in from the groomer to see her, and she didn't seem bothered by the dog. She is 6 months old and all legs. She was to arrive the next night. I didn't want to leave her behind. It was very hard. I almost grabbed her and bolted. They had to remind me I couldn't do that. I must have looked torn. Well, Summer arrived the next night. They came to see the house was cat-friendly. To see Ranger - who refused to come near them. To be sure Summer would have a good home. To bring her food and check that she would be safe. And they said they'd take her back if she didn't work out. Right. And they wanted to call in a week or so and see how she was doing. I said sure. Fat chance she'd be leaving my house. Ranger, fat and lazy, suddenly had a dominant female to deal with - for Summer, when they brought her to me, was not lady-like and demur - she burst out of the carrier cage like a wild tornado and never stopped moving for three hours. The Furry Friends people left well before she ran down. She lopes sideways. She ran, she climbed, she played with toys, she leapt like a gazelle. She checked every room and every piece of furniture. If you try to hold her, she twists and leaps, from five feet or six. She examined the computer, ran over the keyboard, and climbed over the desk. She hid under the Total gym - at last - a use for it. (Just Kidding.) On Ranger's growl, she growled right back, just as loudly. So much for Ranger. She hissed when he did, yeowed when he did, and then turned her back on him. Works every time. They are now fast friends. Sort of. After all that, she climbed up on my hip, (I was resting watching CSI), draped herself across me after batting her head into my hand for petting, and fell sounds asleep. She had claimed the house, her new owner, and stolen my heart. She had made me laugh with her antics all evening. Laugh. I seldom laugh in Fremont. My older son says she brought positive energy back to the house. Understatement. Summer takes over Ranger now wants petting, Ranger and Summer take turns stealing my computer chair, Summer hits delete on my keyboard, has knocked speakers and iCams flying, and has only recently decided that sitting there ignoring the kitten is something Mommy does. Until the Kitten decides otherwise. What? Mommy typing? She has climbed half-way up $100 black-out drapes while I was putting on make-up (had to be rescued), pulled down curtains (I must have been ignoring her), in both my houses no less, and generally has been on a tear-ass right after eating chicken, using the little pan or on general principles. In between these events, she comes over to be petted, but if you pick her up and she is intent on being down, she becomes a boneless Slinky toy and leaps to the ground. She plays hide and seek in the drapes. Her favorite thing is when I lay down with a book, or curl up with one, because then she climbs up on me and snoozes. Both cats share the bed, and are annoyed when I get up, or turn over, or fail to get up at 3AM when Summer has decided that it's a great time to play with Mommy. They both purr like buzz saws. Both are annoyed if I have not retired with a book by 1PM on a Sat or Sun afternoon. Must be catnap time. Ranger and Summer argue about who sleeps on my feet at night. (Ranger looses - he's too heavy. And sometimes he is confined to the heated garage and his cat tree because he likes to puke up his food when he gobbles. He has to be watched.) Ranger has mostly been ignored and been ignoring me since John's death - he was very much John's cat. Ranger has now rejoined catdom, tripping me, rubbing my legs, demanding petting, and expressing noisy complaints when he doesn't have as much chicken as Summer. If chicken is what he wants at that moment. Both cats race between my legs should I get up and walk toward the kitchen. I have to stay near walls so I don't trip. In San Diego, I have to cling to the railing on the stairs. Opening the front door, I have to be alert for they will both come and try to sneak down the walk, I can tell by the orange tails whipping back into the house whenever I turn around just which one has done this. Ranger has taught Summer his trick (they pull a not-too-tightly closed door open with a well-place paw). I visited PetCo a couple weeks after her arrival, for cat nail trimming, since they had decided to rip up the carpet (meaning - "trim my claws") - and saw Furry Friends. They informed me that Summer had been hard to place. She had been adopted (at least once) and brought back! They had been worried about finding her a good home. She had been in and out of houses. Why? How did that happen? Once you saw here, how could you possibly return her? This kitten can race 50 feet at a clip rolling one of her toy balls and then race back (I stay out of the way). She climbed out of my closet proudly strutting with a new pantyliner sticking up from her mouth like some white feather and pranced out to the livingroom wit her trophy. I fell out of bed laughing (it was 2AM). Later, I found another in the living room with teeth marks in it. I must have forgotten an open box or a suitcase. A piece of paper, a paper bag, a shopping tag, these are marvelous cat toys. So is Mommy. Preferable at 3 or 4 AM. My blue velvet tank top is coated in orange fur, as are the pant legs of all my slacks. My palm tree has been sentenced to death - put outside in the cold - because Ranger ate green fronds and puked, and Summer denuded every single dead frond and scattered them or parts of them from one room to the other on this house that is still on the market. I had just vacuumed. She thinks the slipper-shoe covers used for people entering a house with new carpet are great cuddly toys and has them also scattered in every room. She makes love to my fuzzy slippers. I have skipped Poinsettias this year in deference to the juvenile. My amaryllis are trying to survive. Candles are routinely found on the floor (not lit ones). So is my clock. My older son, when told she had been returned after being adopted, said simply - the Universe had decided that she was my cat and wasn't going to let her be anywhere else. Good thing. Excuse me, it's time to slice chicken breast, boiled just for the Kitten, pet the little stinker, and get dressed for work. I hear the bells of a ball being raced about the dining room. Ranger, the bear, is sleepily stalking the kitchen. Besides, it's time for my morning hug. I am allowed to leave, but will be bowled over when I open the door coming home. As I said, awesome. Somehow I think Someone sent her to me. I don't think it was the Universe. |
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