I sat at the dining table, scribbling my morning to-do list and other incoherent blather before my mind dulled into the daily grind and I forgot something that was essential for me to do. The last you heard about Blitz, he seemed to be stuck in an eternal land of fearfulness. Remember that I worried about him?
I called him dirty and afraid. He was.
As usual, Blitz walked past the legs of my chair and I dropped my left hand to let my fingers run across his back and tail as he passed. It was as soft as trailing my fingers through water.
Then, there was a thump. I stopped writing and looked down to see what was the matter. He had dropped and rolled over, paws reaching for my hand. I leaned down. He drew my hand to his head where I rubbed it and he folded his face into my palm. I could feel his canine tooth. That used to make me wonder if he was going to bite me next, the way a cat tired of rubbing sometimes does. Not Blitz. Not ever. Then, I rubbed his fuzzy dotted belly as he rolled back and forth and patted my hands with his paws.
Earlier this morning, as I trudged to the top of the stairs, Blitz lolled about on his back as Mike rubbed him all over. I had the urge to tell Mike to be more gentle but I could see that Blitz didn't need that. These days, he runs to Mike in the morning. It was another cat lesson. If that was what Seth did, run toward Mike when he got up in the morning, then Blitz followed suit.
Later in the kitchen, I noticed that when Mike used the can opener, Blitz ran in to be with him again. Mike had to stop what he was doing, bend over, rub the fuzzy belly, and explain that it was only corn today not tuna.
And when Nick got up late for school because he was still a little sick and I moved along behind him picking up dirty dishes and trying to help him get ready faster, he stopped, backpack on his shoulder, to take a moment to pet Blitz while he stood on the cat tree waiting for the farewell and have a nice day at school.
It was lovely to see, but the hasty-mom in me, the one that works to get Nick moving, gigged him because he was late and still dawdling.
"You need to get going."
Nick turned and glared at me.
"Hurry up. Everything is hurry up and I'm still a sick."
To him, petting the cats was an essential part of the morning.
Fuck. What a mom. I was just lucky he was well enough to go to school at all. His immune system had picked up so that he only missed two and a half days instead of his usual week from school.
Scientific studies have shown that pets bolster the immune system, that their dirtiness is actually a benefit. So maybe it was okay that my little cat still rolled in the litter box sometimes. Maybe it was okay that he was still a little bit dirty.
And maybe these days, he wasn't quite so afraid.
Thank you for listening, jb
I called him dirty and afraid. He was.
As usual, Blitz walked past the legs of my chair and I dropped my left hand to let my fingers run across his back and tail as he passed. It was as soft as trailing my fingers through water.
Then, there was a thump. I stopped writing and looked down to see what was the matter. He had dropped and rolled over, paws reaching for my hand. I leaned down. He drew my hand to his head where I rubbed it and he folded his face into my palm. I could feel his canine tooth. That used to make me wonder if he was going to bite me next, the way a cat tired of rubbing sometimes does. Not Blitz. Not ever. Then, I rubbed his fuzzy dotted belly as he rolled back and forth and patted my hands with his paws.
Earlier this morning, as I trudged to the top of the stairs, Blitz lolled about on his back as Mike rubbed him all over. I had the urge to tell Mike to be more gentle but I could see that Blitz didn't need that. These days, he runs to Mike in the morning. It was another cat lesson. If that was what Seth did, run toward Mike when he got up in the morning, then Blitz followed suit.
Later in the kitchen, I noticed that when Mike used the can opener, Blitz ran in to be with him again. Mike had to stop what he was doing, bend over, rub the fuzzy belly, and explain that it was only corn today not tuna.
And when Nick got up late for school because he was still a little sick and I moved along behind him picking up dirty dishes and trying to help him get ready faster, he stopped, backpack on his shoulder, to take a moment to pet Blitz while he stood on the cat tree waiting for the farewell and have a nice day at school.
It was lovely to see, but the hasty-mom in me, the one that works to get Nick moving, gigged him because he was late and still dawdling.
"You need to get going."
Nick turned and glared at me.
"Hurry up. Everything is hurry up and I'm still a sick."
To him, petting the cats was an essential part of the morning.
Fuck. What a mom. I was just lucky he was well enough to go to school at all. His immune system had picked up so that he only missed two and a half days instead of his usual week from school.
Scientific studies have shown that pets bolster the immune system, that their dirtiness is actually a benefit. So maybe it was okay that my little cat still rolled in the litter box sometimes. Maybe it was okay that he was still a little bit dirty.
And maybe these days, he wasn't quite so afraid.
Thank you for listening, jb
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