9/11/08

Cat Trippin'

I used to wonder why it was that my mom received the most attention from my cats. Granted I was ten or twelve, or even older, and the whole issue seemed like rocket science. Hey, they're my cats! But they like mom better? Quelle deal?

It's not rocket science. Not only was mom home during the day, like I am now, but it's the same reason why moms are the go-to person for any sort of love and attention--because they stop and provide it.

I woke up this morning at 6am, only to be greeted by the friendly NPR news dude saying it was the anniversary of September 11th. You couldn't have let me be awake, say, eight or nine minutes before hitting me with that mental image? Nope, right off the bat. *heart sad*

This was the first time I've seen 6am this week because I've been lazy. I go to make tea, practically tripped along the way by Walter who is purring as noisy as a chainsaw. Like he hasn't seen me in a week. Hopi and Mari are in their customary morning position, which is right in the hallway to the kitchen--fighting. Or playing. Can never tell. But the AM is their sparring time.

Walter tries to trip me again on the way to the kettle, so I pick him up. Purrpurrpurrpurr. Shameless cat behavior. He insists on being carried around while I do my tea preparations, lays on my feet in the bathroom, and sits outside the glass door while I shower. Once I'm back in my robe, which he thinks is made of an angel's hair and catnip, he contentedly hangs around while I type.

So when the girls ask me why the cats run away from them, but never from me, I think back to my own cats and that same frustration. I want to tell them that they, the girls, buzz around like mad bumblebees in a field of wildflowers--flit, flit, flit--and can't possibly attract anything more than curious stares from these animals, especially high-strung Mari.

Moms are stable, or should be. Moms have patience, or try to. And moms have nice squishy laps, which they're constantly thinking about firming up. Ah well. Good for snuggles.

What are your kooky pet routines?

Morning smiles like the face
Of a newborn child,
Innocent and knowing.
"Fear" by Sarah McLachlan

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