In which I actually have sympathy for a cat

We recently visited my friend Karen’s house for the afternoon. She’s the one who tipped me off on Baby Einstein videos and gave me three of them for my baby shower! (Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! They’re brilliant - except for the part where it snows on the zebra in Baby Monet - that part always makes the boys cry…?!)

Karen’s daughter, Ashlin, is 5, and her cat is 17 - and had just that afternoon returned home after a few days in the cat hospital.  Ashlin was very patient and sweet with the boys, letting Benjamin climb all over her, saying “He thinks I’m a talking slide!”

She also had lots of girl toys that Benjamin and Jonah had never seen before. I handed Jonah a My Little Pony saying, “Look, a little horse with lots of hair to play with!” He took a long look at the pink body and long purple hair, made a polite “gag me” face, and handed it back to me.

Meanwhile Benjamin disappeared. No answer when I called. Then I heard a small “mew” behind the couch. I looked down and found Benjamin. In full-body-hug position. On top of the cat that had just gotten out of the hospital. The poor, exhausted cat. It didn’t have the energy to protest more than a soft “mew.”