Once upon a time, a half-grown tabby catling found herself alone in the world. She wandered from a farm–maybe she had been dumped there, maybe she strayed there–to the auto shop down the road, where a customer saw her, opened the car door, and said, “Here, kitty kitty.” That was how she got the name “Lucy,” and a person of her own.
She has been with me six years or so now, through some big life changes, and has moved with me from the farm to my post-breakup apartment to Arizona’s and my little House In The Trees. She fretted during the first move, like she didn’t believe she was coming with me. By the second move, though, when I put the Hated Cat Carrier next to a stack boxes, when I next came into the room, she was sitting inside it looking out, as if to say, “Okay, I’m packed. When do we leave?”
Now, Lucy Cat isn’t the cuddly sort–unless you like your cuddles with teeth and claws. She’s more the sort who likes to be within a few feet of (and ignoring) her human. And, well, her folder at the vet clinic has HANDLE WITH CARE stickers on it, along with the nickname “Cujo.” In fact, rather than resenting it when we added Pixel the Kitten to our family, Lucy seemed relieved, because it meant that I stopped trying to pick her up and smooch her.
Rarely, though, Lucy begs to be petted. And lo, and behold, this weekend was one of those rare occasions. I was down on the floor, playing with the baby, when Lucy swaggers up, sits down, and stares at me, as if to say, “Well? Pet me already, woman. The clock is ticking.”
I obliged, of course. Then, when I saw her hair loosening up, I stretched out an arm to grab the Furminator (a magical object, indeed!), and gave her a good grooming. Or as much of one as I could sneak in before she laid her ears back and said enough was enough. In that short span of time, though, I pulled a whole lot of wool off Miss Kitty. And you know what that means?
SPRING. IS. COMING.
Yep, it seems impossible after this winter (at least as we’ve experienced it here in the northeast), but Lucy T. Cat says that it’s time to shed our outer layers in preparation for sunny days, warm winds, and fat, sassy chipmunks to chase. Sure, maybe Arizona is out there now, shoveling another six inches off the driveway, but the end is in sight, my friends. And soon enough we’ll have the pleasure of complaining about the heat and the bugs!
So how about you? What are some of the signs that tell you that a new season is on the horizon?
Timberlee R. Congratulations! I’ll be in touch.
Thanks to everyone for celebrating the release of my new VK Sykes book!
Congratulations, Kate Sparks and Timberlee R. you’re Michelle’s winners! Please email her at email@example.com to learn how to collect your prize.
Karen M., whose dog just didn’t respect the squirt bottle but whose children might, send me your snail mail and book preference, and I’ll get that out to you! Thanks for being grouchy with me, folks. I feel much better.