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Neither here nor there

Me: Is it that obvious to strangers I like hamsters?
Him: Yes.

On Thursday morning, I didn't have enough time to kiss Sif or Dorian on the head. I barely got in a goodbye. When I last saw them, Dorian was happily starting on his holiday kibble after breakfast, and Sif was mulling about the living room, certain something was wrong. Our flight from SF was delayed. We were late to the airport and lucky immigration did not take long getting in, but wound up waiting an extra 30 minutes for our flight. At New York, we had to rush to the plane and still waited on the runway for an extra 30 minutes as other delayed connections came in. We arrived in Vermont. Jerry, my in-laws' cat, was happy to see me when I showed up in their kitchen, and I was happy to see him. He got all the excess love my cats couldn't have.

Right now, the sound of my wheezing reverberates in my silent headphones like a broken record. But the song playing in my head is the theme from Poyopoyo -- you must sing the "Pyon!" at the end of "Maru kai de pyon!" like the sound of a wibbling jelly -- currently all the rage in my strange little world because it reminds me of round, fluffy orange cat pillows.

The day after we arrived in Vermont, Jerry was sent to the cat spa. It was a friendly, cheerful place that clearly obsessed over cats more than most people would. We drove up to Lake Elmore with the family. Since that time, the local wildlife I have sighted include, in some order: a caterpillar that fell on my sleeve as I entered the car, which I kept around until I could let it go on a tree next to a gas station in Montpelier; various baby bass and a perch I still regret I didn't turn into a steamed dinner, caught by my white-milk-and-orange-cheddar 'vegetarian' nephew and which I had to help unhook and release, since all the other family members except my father-in-law, who couldn't make it down the steep deck stairs easily, were too squeamish; a crayfish Seth spotted by the dock (I don't think Vermont gets crayfish seasons...); a couple of loons on the water last evening; four cute and tasty ducks that nap on our warm dock and token random mushrooms I truly wonder about as possible sautes under the birches by the lake.

Our cottage is large and cosy. The kitchen is new, and vastly more well-appointed with tools than my own. The granite counter is big enough to roll out a nice thin pepperkaker. Our bed is plump with coverlets and pillows. It feels at night like we're sleeping on some incredibly luxurious thread count. I look forward to walks with Seth by the lake, so we can stare at trees. Tonight, I look forward to something I cannot do in San Francisco, taking walks, or going otuside late after dark, because our neighbourhood doesn't allow for that safely.

In the mornings, I listen to people starting their day outside our door, and miss the orange cat that should be purring on my forehead, and the small gray creature passing by my door with an audible, "Mrr."

Him: What are you looking at?
Me: Ducks.
Him: They're just sitting there sleeping.
Me: Have you seen what I do with Sif? I watch her while she's sitting and sleeping.

He makes this preposterous claim that I have an unnatural affection for our cats. But all I can think of is how much I want to fight for my rice krispies in the morning, or go numb with 16 pounds of warm happiness on my leg. It's like having something important suddenly disappearing into thin air. Whatever else I do, something is missing.


( 9 comments — Leave a comment )
Aug. 22nd, 2012 04:56 am (UTC)
The furbeasts have gone into apocalyptic survival mode. They lurk at us from under couches and hide in bedrooms as we pass, glad for the food that appears in our wake but distrustful of the familiar strangers that bring them. No sign of conch shells, so I suspect they are actually quite fine, if confused. Tomorrow we go over to provide concentrated love and attention and snuggles. And brushing. They are surviving quite well, but will be most happy to see you when you return.
Aug. 22nd, 2012 01:16 pm (UTC)
Glad they are ok at least. Dorian is probably frustrated he cannot reestablish dominance over the yard.

Poor little guys.
Aug. 22nd, 2012 03:23 pm (UTC)
Thanks for looking after the furbeasts, once again. I miss them. But I'm glad someone is around to kiss them on the head and snuggle them so they don't go feral. Hopefully they haven't been too much trouble! Will be so happy to see them when we get back.
Aug. 22nd, 2012 08:38 pm (UTC)
Yep! They are still adorable, and no trouble. Dorian hovers *near* in the house - he does not want to be picked up, but he definitely feel strongly about proximity. Jack thinks it is sociability, but he may also be being Guard Cat to keep a vigilant eye on the Food Givers.
Aug. 22nd, 2012 09:30 pm (UTC)
Awww. Once Dorian recognizes Food Givers, he will start being more helpful about food service. :) He is a *very* helpful cat.
Aug. 22nd, 2012 11:57 am (UTC)
Awwwwww! Kitties!
Aug. 22nd, 2012 08:02 pm (UTC)
one of these days, I'll figure out a way to convince you to visit Boston.
Aug. 22nd, 2012 09:25 pm (UTC)
I want to visit Boston too! And St. Louis! And New Orleans! Lots of places I really need to get into some gear about seeing. All that food to try. :)
Aug. 23rd, 2012 03:40 am (UTC)
yes! let's go out to eat together one day!
( 9 comments — Leave a comment )