Lately when I leave something on the bed, Marcel curls up on whatever I’ve left behind. Two days ago he spent much of the day sleeping on top of my basket of assorted workout clothes and yesterday he got cozy with my running socks. I assumed the theme was my powerful stink. But today he’s thrown me a curveball.
How am I supposed to interpret this behavior?
As I hooped this morning, a bunny came into view. The furry beauty remained in that same spot, calmly chewing and staring into space, despite the fact that I spun and twirled nearby. And then Marcel, sensing something outside, jumped up in the window. The bunny casually glanced toward where the big white cat stared longingly, and immediately returned to her bunny business.
I’d like to emulate that self-confidence during this coming week. Me and the bunny, not overly concerned with matters outside our personal spheres.
Marcel is the four-legged member of the family voted Most Likely to Open a Closet, Drawer, or Food Canister. Which is why it was particularly dumb for me to leave only a sliding screen door between him and the great outdoors before I left today for a lunch date. To make matters worse, it wasn’t until a couple hours after my return that I noticed the screen door open about six inches.
Zippy and I began dashing about in a panic, calling Marcel’s name. Zippy checked under furniture and in closets as I ran around the front and back yards looking under bushes. I ran across the street (which hosts a fair amount of traffic) to ask the neighbors if they’d seen him. They hadn’t, but promised they’d let me know if they did. I started to wonder how I’d ever break it to Zebu that Marcel was gone.
I was making another round of the back yard when I heard something. I stopped and listened. I heard it again and followed the sound. There was Marcel, curled up in a corner of the neighbor’s yard, crying and frozen in fear. Zippy climbed over the fence and brought him home.
The good news is that Marcel’s already gotten over the trauma from his big adventure. Just a few moments ago, he was messing with the latch on the food canister.
Update: And right after I posted this, he opened the closet in my writing room and climbed into a box filled with bubble wrap.
Revisions going so well, Marcel is just a blur in the rear-view mirror.
Now if I could get him to stop drooling on me, my notebook, and my mouse pad. For whatever reason, he knows better than to drool on my keyboard.
That’s a good boy.
This morning I pulled some manuscript/project boxes out of the closet to see if there’s anything in there worth salvaging for my next writing endeavor. (My little writer brain has to have something to noodle on, so while I await my critique group’s feedback on my work-in-progress, I’ve started thinking about what comes next). Well, those boxes proved irresistible to the cats.
Marcel claiming his literary territory
Later this afternoon, Emma and I went out on the trails. Although it was warm enough for me to wear shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, there were still a few patches of snow along the way. We stopped running so that Emma could do her thing.
I laughed as she scooped snow with her snout and dug holes with her paws and slid down the slope on her tummy.
Emma + snow = happiness
I took a total of two photos today. First, I crept up on wild and crazy Marcel. SNAP!
Then, I pivoted to capture the rambunctious Loki.
National Geographic, you know where to find me.
Exactly one year and one day ago Emma came to stay. Not a whole lot has changed since then, except that we still haven’t mastered not-blurry photos of her AND elder-dog Zoey now has one more “damn millennial” to shake her head at AND cat-brothers Loki and Marcel have mostly put aside their differences to join forces against the high-energy pupster AND strangers now stop Zippy and me on the street to inform us that Emma is so very cute.
As if we hadn’t noticed.
We’re headed to Zippy’s sister’s home for a belated Christmas gathering. I was wrapping some gifts in my writing room when I looked up to see Marcel wedging himself in the box of ribbons. I carried the box out to show Zippy, and asked him to take a photo.
That face is a Christmas miracle all its own.
It’s been a low-key day.
A good day.
For that, I’m grateful.
This box a year old,
their favorite habitat.
Cats and kids the same.
. . . if your cats won’t even look you in the eye
I was just getting ready for bed when I realized:
(1) I’d neglected to blog today and
(2) it’s National Cat Day.
So, here’s Marcel from two years ago:
I can’t imagine life without the lovable drooler.
(The curtain opens to a calm scene. Woman reads in bed with Loki (black cat) on lap and Marcel (white cat) against her leg.)
Loki’s tail begins to whip Marcel in the head, which Marcel can ignore for only so long.
Woman: Come on, you two. Really?
“Why, yes. That was me prying the lid off the food canister.
Is there a problem?”
A click will enlarge the image, not the remorse.
Any place is good for eavesdropping, if you know how to eavesdrop.
~ Tom Waits
The male muse is an unaccountably rare thing in art.
Where does that leave female artists looking for inspiration?
~ Kate Christensen
Well, I’m a female artist currently working in close proximity to my male muse who is apparently lost in thoughts inspired by his whiteboard-muse. Inspiration comes in many forms.
Gotta respect the process.
Here are two cat butts
their feline heads gone missing.
Marcel gets between the camera and the bunnies.
Marcel just came in to check up on me and my novel.
He offered encouragement,
along with a gentle reminder that it’s getting close to his dinnertime.
“Why, yes. I did just lick sweaty post-run salt off you while you napped.
Is that a problem?”
But if you really want to learn about life, get a cat.
The way I think people should relate to animals is with a cat.
Because the world is his.
~ James Cromwell
Marcel looking past me on March 4, 2016
As I create this post, I’m perched on the edge of my chair so as to not interrupt Marcel’s nap. I briefly left the room and returned to find him curled up on the seat. The world truly does belong to him.
Yesterday I moved my writing desk from the living room into my weight room / standing desk room / ginormous whiteboard room. The animals are all a bit confused by the change, and are taking turns hanging out with me. Zoey and Emma were just underneath the desk where Zoey quivered in fright because of thunder while Emma slept on my feet.
This is Marcel from earlier in the day. Right after this photo was taken, he noticed his tail and started chasing it. Confession: I have yet to look away from a cat chasing his tail. I’m dialed into those feline hijinks for the duration, and will watch as long as the cat continues to act the fool.
The change in venue feels good for my writerly brain and psyche, but so far, the animal distractions are more than I bargained for.
In the last ten months, every house in our neighborhood got a new roof following a hailstorm last summer. In fact, roofers were working on a neighbor’s house minutes ago when the sky turned dark and another hailstorm blew in.
As Marcel watched, hail drifted up against the sliding glass door within minutes.
Here’s a view out the front window.
I’m very worried this storm just ruined all the new roofs. Again. I hope I’m wrong because otherwise there’s a whole lotta shingles headed for the landfill and a whole lotta hammering in our futures.
I do find it quite stressful to pack for a trip.
Thanks for noticing.