Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Cats and Dog

Ralph had been pestering Celeste since o'dark-thirty, pouncing on her while she was still asleep on the bed, chasing her up and down the hall, and wrestling in the bathroom.  When she'd had it up to here, she turned the tables, held him down and bit him hard!  Hard enough to make him cry.  And then they both got quiet.  Just as when my Kids were small, I worry when the "children" get quiet and wonder what they're up to now.  (When the Kids were little and I didn't hear any action, I'd yell up the stairs, "Whatever you're doing, stop it NOW!," and I'd hear whispering, "How does she know?")  There the cats were at the bathroom window, intent together on something outside on the deck, both tails twitching.

Nearly every pot on the deck has licorice mint that spreads on its own every year, and every stalk of mint now has dried seeds where there had been lovely purple flowers.  What the cats were watching were dozens and dozens of tiny goldfinches bobbing up and down on the long stems while breakfasting on the mint seeds.  Surprisingly, all these birdies were silent as they congregated.  The goldfinches wear finery when they go out to eat, dressed in bright yellow satin waistcoats and formal grey and black jackets with cuffs trimmed in white.  Much smaller than canaries, they're almost unnoticed when I walk out until they take off flying.  For the cats, they're better than TV.

I was able to start and finish a book yesterday in spite of The Boss.  A couple of times I had to forcibly boot her out on her own, telling her I'd earned a day off.  When she saw that yipping wasn't working, she fell back on old reliable whining.  Lying by the door, head on paws, she began a campaign of incessant, high-pitched crying.  "Pleeease.  You never take me out.  I really, really, really want you to come with me."  Unable to concentrate and certainly unable to shut her up, I gave up and we went outside.  And the first thing she did?  She pointed me toward the raggedy wild grass clumps in the path across the front of the house and "suggested" I dig them out.  Okay, the path does look better now.  Bess would have made a good drill sergeant.

It was a good day.

1 comment:

Kathryn said...

That shot of the cats is indeed "picture perfect," and oh, rest for the wicked when your drill sergeant is on duty :-)