The mongrel had been especially affectionate lately. He had so enjoyed my Mom while she was visiting me after knee surgery. He would ease into her bed, looking all sweet and fluffy. Despite proclaiming a hatred of cats, we soon heard cooing coming from her bedroom.
Sid, the cat, has a strong sense of coming and goings. Many times I’ve arrived home from a trip to find a dead Welcome Home mouse sitting on the rug inside the entrance to my house. In the same way, he seemed to know my Mom was leaving. That final day she got up to make coffee and behold a little bird was waiting for her.
The mouse thing does not bother me. I actually got the cat because, well he’s beautiful, and the mice were thinking our home was theirs. He set them straight in no time. But, I love the birds, and feel a dark hatred for my cat every time he brings one in. The one he presented to my Mom was different though. It was alive! As I lay, leg propped on pillows, helpless in my bed, I heard the tiny screeches of a poor little bird-breathing his last breath on my kitchen floor.
I have been trying to let the cat know I do not like the bird presents. I do so by exclaiming my disappointment (it may be a little stronger than that–ahhh). He mostly has heard me–either that or there a less birds around due to it being winter now.
Today is my first day in the house alone since my surgery. My husband, Rich, works 12 hour shifts on the weekend. I know I’m okay alone, but have been anticipating feeling vulnerable because I am. When Rich kissed me goodbye at 4:45 am, though in a deep slumber, it crossed my mind that Sid likes to reward us when we give him a lot of attention. Being immobile, and his precious–my Mom–having left, I have doted on him more than normal. I hoped he would not bring me a present in bed.
Shortly after Rich left, the cat jumped on my bed. My body stiffened as I remembered my fear. He moved to my side and something furry grazed my neck. Screaming, I sat straight up in bed. Ahh, it was that darn fluffy tail, one-and-a-half times the length of his body. Shew, I laid down, happy I was wrong, and drifted off again with my furry friend nuzzled against me.
An hour or so later I awoke and laid there for a minute coming to. Then, on the floor at the end of my bed, I heard a thump, and then another and then another. I looked over the edge of the bed to make out Sid sitting over a lump of something. “Sid!” I yelled. He grabbed the creature and bolted into the kitchen. Rising quickly from the bed, I grabbed my crutches and started out of the room. On my way out, one of my crutches brushed against my brace and I realized I could not afford to wobble out without it and crash chasing the cat. As I stopped to put on the brace, the thump thump thump continued in the kitchen.
When I finally made it out there were feathers everywhere. Sid was on my new rug chomping away, crushing bones. As I moved towards him, he darted towards the living room. So I hobbled around to the other side to block him, and I did, surprisingly. I came back around and tried to get him to go out the front door by opening it. This set the feathers in motion, moving in circles close to the floor. Sid took his prize and jetted out the dog door (much farther away).
It’s amazing what you can do when you’re alone and crippled. I was able to grab the broom and sweep the feathers away from the kitchen table so I could drink coffee without having my feet nesting in bird feathers.
Sid came back inside numerous times to beg my forgiveness. I had my usual talk with him about not needing presents, and if I get one it should be a mouse. Oh, and don’t ever bring one of your presents in my room again!