THE POSTSCRIPT, Carrie Classon
In our household, my husband, Peter, and I have acquired nicknames which we imagine our cat, Felix, calls us by. To Felix, I am Mama and Peter is Mouse.
We came by these names because I spend more time cuddling with Felix — although he is not much of a cuddler. On the rare occasions when he decides he’d like to make biscuits (or whatever term you use for that endearing activity where a cat treats you like a loaf of bread and kneads you with his two front paws), I am the one he selects. But other than that, Mama has few redeeming qualities because it is Mouse who plays all the games, and Felix loves games.
Peter and Felix have string games and chase games and games in a box. They have surprise one another around the corner games and throw towels over Felix’s head games. They have so many games in so many varieties that I do not try to keep track. Occasionally, I hear something fall to the ground (usually something that used to live on my nightstand) but, other than that, I don’t pay much attention to the many games that Felix and Mouse play.
Mouse is also the one who dispenses the treats. This is because, according to Felix, Mouse knows where the treats are kept and he knows how to open a tuna can. There is no indication that Mama knows either of these things. Mama also does other things, things that Felix really does not like. Mama yells when Felix is on the table (Mouse pretends he does not see him). And — worst of all — Mama gets out the nail clippers and cuts Felix’s beautiful curving claws. This is just plain awful and only barely compensated for when he then gets a special treat once the torture is complete. So Mama, it must be said, is rather useless when she is not outright annoying.
But lately, since the weather turned cold in San Miguel, Mama has demonstrated a new, unexpected skill that has come in quite handy. Mama can find the warm spots.
In reality, I have two electric back heaters that I plug in and use to keep warm since the apartment has no heating. I keep one under my desk, under a towel, and the other on my side of the bed, under the sheets. I only turn them on when I plan to use them, and these mysterious warm spots are very appealing to Felix. But he’s never sure where they are and when they will be warm.
This has given Mama a little unexpected clout as she locates the warm spots in the apartment, and Felix follows her around to see if she is hogging one of them so he can move in.
If she is sleeping on one of them, he slowly works his way over until he is under Mama’s armpit. If there is one under her desk, she inconsiderately puts her feet on top of it, so Felix has to stretch himself right over the top of her feet to suck up the available warmth. Then she’ll get up to fetch more coffee and return, only to shove her feet under him again. It is very bothersome.
But once Mama has a fresh cup of coffee and Felix is securely on top of her wool socks, life is pretty good. Mouse goes out for his hike. Mama stays put at her desk making “tappa-tappa-tapping” noises on the computer above, and Felix decides Mama is not entirely bad after all.
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