The great thing about having a black cat is that she’s
pre-decorated for Halloween. Of course that doesn’t stop us from dressing her
up anyway, much to her annoyance. Right now, as the season kicks into swing,
she’s all about posing as a ‘black cat shadow.’ She’s been practicing for the
role all year.
The not-so-great thing about having a black cat is that she’s really just a cat. And she wants to go outside and play when The Girl
leaves for school at 6:30 a.m. Actually, she wants to go outside and play when
The Girl gets up at 5:00 a.m. but she shows a
little restraint. By 6:30, she’s ‘singing’ at the front door and getting
underfoot.
So let her out, right?
No. It’s still dark. In the early
days of the blog I mentioned a significant loss of cattage in the cul-de-sac
due to a family of foxes residing in the nearby golf course. They’re still
building houses between us and the golf course, so there are more barriers for
the red assassins, but there is also more prey. The rule that the cat stays in
after dark still applies. Or in this case, before light.
Keeping her in, is a challenge. Actually, no, it isn’t.
She’s hovering by the front door, so it’s easy to catch her, if not hold her,
when The Girl leaves. She can safely go out an hour later when The Boy leaves.
All right, so keeping her in isn’t really the problem, it’s
keeping her happy that is. The Girl
wanted to give her kitty-snuggles this morning before she left. It went like
this:
Mournful meow.
“Stop it, I’m snuggling you."
Another mournful meow.
“Here, let me pet your tummy.”
Mournful meow accompanied by wriggling.
“Don’t you want to be held like a baby?” She switches and
puts The Cat over her shoulder to pet her.
Meows to hide the fact she’s digging her claws into The
Girl’s shoulder in preparation for launch. The Girl clamps down to hold her in
place.
"Hold still."
Low growling.
“But I love you!”
I sighed. “Give her to me.”
The Girl passed The Cat over. The Cat fell silent, although
slightly huffy, in my embrace. I pet her. The Girl put on her shoes then walked
over, hands on tiny hips, and demanded to know why The Cat wasn’t meowing and
wiggling with me.
“I have her in a headlock.”
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