MIDNIGHT - Springfield was my lunch packing assistant for all of her 19 years. She turned our tiny galley kitchen into an obstacle course by carefully positioning herself at the sink, the frig door, or in front of the stove. Krakus ham and honey turkey were her absolute favorites. In her last 2 years I worried about her now-frail body being underfoot. Her fading hearing no longer brought her running when I opened the deli drawer, so we simply put down a carpet square where she could avoid traffic and have her deli snack in peace. Springfield died 3 years ago, and none of the other cats have shown any interest in cured meats. Until this week. Midnight was helping me by standing under my feet and mewing in that high pitched Im starving mew that only kittens can produce. She and I both know how to stop that infernal racket, but now she is young and I need to worry about cats underfoot. Dont do it, warns my husband as I reach for a tiny piece of honey ham. As he heads for the shower, I slip her a piece (just a little one - whats the harm?) of honey ham. Silence. Blessed silence. Until the roast turkey came out. Cats learn fast, and she has been helping me all week. Ham, turkey, a little leftover roast chicken, a smidgen of Havarti cheese. Springfield was an elegant, commanding, long -hair tortie, who had lived her whole life inside. Midnight is tough, quick, opportunistic, and brings outdoor skills to the obstacle course in the Wente kitchen. Sandwich-making has become a potential death trap again - and I wouldnt have it any other way.
Posted on: Fri, 28 Mar 2014 12:59:10 +0000