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Catnap  Our story tonight is called Catnap. And it’s a story about Marmalade the cat and Crumb the as they find ways to play through the winter. It’s also about a spark of something sweet that begins to grow between friends, a pup cup enjoyed on a heated patio and a suitcase ready to be packed. Marmalade was dozing in her spot by the window. She’d been too small to climb up to it that first winter when I found her, a tiny orange kitten out in the snow. But the following autumn, the first day the boiler had kicked on and the radiators began to circulate warmth, she’d discovered it. A broad, flat shelf built over the radiator and right beside a big picture window. She could lay her soft belly against the wood and feel the heat rising up as she looked out at the birds and the branches. Pure kitty heaven. Plus (and I think this was a BIG plus), Crumb couldn’t reach her there. Crumb, my little brown with a snaggle tooth and a lions mane of delightfully dishevelled fur, adored Marmalade. He brought her his toys and waited for her at dinner time, shifting excitedly from paw to paw as her plate was set down beside his. While Marmy frequently pretended not to notice any of this, I saw that they snuggled together under the blanket at night and that she cleaned his face and ears each day. We were a little family, the three of us, and I loved our life. Crumb and I took walks most days, though lately the icy sidewalks had made them less fun. I’d bought him booties to protect his paws which went about as well as you might imagine. He’d stood at the door alternating between shaking out each leg and freezing in place, as if we were playing red light/green light. We’d made it about 20 feet down the sidewalk before we’d abandoned the whole idea and since then waited for dry days to go on walks. Instead, I found some other ways to entertain all of us over the winter. I’d grown a pot full of catnip on the windowsill in the kitchen, and in the afternoons when we all needed a pick me up, I’d rub a leaf along Marmalade’s scratching post and over her tiny toy mice and Crumb and I would watch her go from sleepy and disinterested to wild attack cat in a flash. I found out Crumb enjoyed car rides and once a week or so we’d head out to do some errands together. He quickly became a favourite customer at several of our stops. He was such a natural ham that he made everyone laugh and fall in love with him. In fact, if I showed up at the hardware store without him, the clerks would peer over the counter and listen for the scrabble of his paws on the linoleum asking “where’s Crumb”? They kept biscuits by the register for him and those days out had become a long buffet of treats for Crumb. We’d often end at our favourite coffee shop which had a covered patio with heaters and a walk up friendly window. I’d get my Matcha with Soy, Crumb would get his Pup Cup with biscuit garnish and we’d find a table in the sun. He’d scramble up onto my lap and we’d enjoy our quiet time together. Whenever we got home from those days out, Marmalade would meet us at the door, thoroughly sniff Crumb as if it assure herself he hadn’t been anywhere he shouldn’t have .. then turn her tail and head back to her spot in the window. We’d also had more play dates with Birdy, the sweet giant greyhound who Marmalade had known since she was a kitten. Birdy’s favourite thing to do was sleep, so when he and his dad came over, it was often for a quiet day inside together. In fact, those days together had grown more frequent in the last couple of months. We’d started, without even noticing, to spend every Friday night, all five of us, watching movies on the giant sofa in my living room, waiting for take out to be delivered or cooking together in the kitchen. It had grown slowly, organically, this feeling of being together being more natural, more comfortable than being apart. And now, Birdy had his own bed beside the others and his own bowl in the kitchen. He ate different kibble than Crumb and I’d bought a big bag of it from the pet store to keep in my pantry. Talk about commitment! I went to pet Marmalade in her spot at the window and she woke up as i laid a hand in her fur. She snuggled her head up into my palm as I rubbed her ears and scratched down her back. I started to tell her about something we had planned. I think Crumb already knew since he’d found my suitcase open in the middle of the bedroom and had sat in it and frowned for a while. “Now Marmy” I said, leaning down to talk quietly to her “You’ve got to be a big girl, a good big sister, you know how Crumb looks up to you.” Her tail flicked and she began to purr. “You and Crumb and Birdy, you’re gonna spend a few days with a friend. You know her. The nice lady at the Inn. She’s going to take care of you all and you’re going to have fun there. Birdy’s dad and I will only be gone a few days and we’ll bring you back something nice.” She turned and looked at me shrewdly then faced back to the window where a bright yellow bird with a swath of black across his wings and bold yellow eyebrows sat. An Evening Grosbeak, a rare pretty bird. It seemed auspicious. Crumb pranced over and I scooped him up so he could look out as well. I was excited for our trip. We were headed somewhere sunny where we could walk on the beach and see how this little spark we’d started might grow. And I was also nervous to leave the animals. The Innkeeper had jumped at the chance to host them as they were still closed for the season and she’d mentioned she’d been thinking about getting an animal friend. So we’d all of us be testing things this next week or so. I’d pack up my own bag with sandals and sundresses and books to read on the beach .. and then I’d pack up their little bags with their favourite blankies and toys and kibble - and tomorrow we’d drop them off at the Inn. I imagined them running through the halls, Crumb chasing a toy down the length of the ballroom and Marmalade preening among the houseplants in the library. I was excited to go and already excited to come back home again. Nothing Much Happens |
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