Mickey

Slice of Life #3

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When a cat really bonds with you, they’re devoted.

Mickey gets up wherever he’s been napping when I park my car in the garage at the back of the lot. Today I think he came out the cat door.  He likes to sniff the bumpers on my Miata to know where I’ve been, but I was already sliding the door closed as he came up to me.  “There’s the kitty.  The pretty kitty…” I intoned and headed for the front.

Mickey followed and supervised hauling in the trash and recycling bins from the street, rolling them up the driveway. He sauntered alongside, content with my performance and knowing the routine. My neighbor commented on what a good looking cat he is and laughed when I explained he always supervises this chore.

When I let myself in the house, he followed me into Mom’s room meowing insistently.  Petting and saying “hello” was not enough.  I checked in with my mother, who has come down with the awful designer virus going around here. All the while, Mickey punctuated our news with meows and meow-meows.

My late afternoon arrival signals “tea time” which means a small handful of tuna flavored dental treats, so I dumped a few of the crunchy things in his dish.  I obediently turned on the sink faucet when he jumped – well, heaved his big old bod up on the kitchen counter.  He refuses to drink out of a bowl on the floor.  I got the sink faucet dripping just so and Mickey lapped water.

This evening I thought I’d be smart and park my laptop on the fold-down table in the kitchen so Mickey wouldn’t be pestering me, trying to sleep by my computer at my tiny writing desk.  Trying to step on or lean on my laptop.  Last night, I left my desk and he followed. He settled for curling up on the kitchen table cloth to sleep while I wrote and responded to blog posts.

But no, this evening, after sampling a few tidbits of my homemade pulled pork, my buddy has gone outside to enjoy the sunset light, watch the neighbors walk their dogs, and (to my chagrin) walk one of his routes in the hood.  Crossing streets.  Good thing he’s a smart, big black and white cat. And I have the entire kitchen table to myself.

The photo I snapped of Mickey the other afternoon makes me think of a trusted reader. He listens.  He hears my voice but doesn’t lose his own train of thought.  He may have judgment but does not argue. We understand each others tastes. And it is just good to be together.

2 thoughts on “Mickey”

  1. I don’t have a cat but have a dog. Our four-legged friends become family members. Yes, they have their devotion to us. They have that unconditional love every day. All ears when we are talking to them. Their hearts out when we are feeling low. Their love feels that empty space!

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