Audrey was not my favorite cat when she woke me up before the alarm clock yesterday morning, but the Evil Genius doesn’t worry her stripy little head about such mundane things. Audrey always keeps her big, green eyes on the prize: whatever she happens to want at the moment. Letting Her Majesty out the balcony door, I noticed that the sky was an amazing confection of pink and lavender, much like the Pink Drinks we had at Junapalooza:
I told Erica we should call the magical pink cocktails “Garden Parties”, and this inspired her to start plotting a high tea for next year’s Junapalooza, though we may do it sooner. As the Beach Boys put it, we can’t wait for June.
Meanwhile, Clyde spent his morning catching a squirrel which was almost as big as he was. He dragged it into the house and up the stairs to show me, which horrified me in so many ways, not least of which is the fact that squirrels, while cute in Beatrix Potter drawings, should really stay there. They are undeniably rodential, and their tails are quite rat-like under the fluff. Also they never have waistcoats or gowns like they do in Beatrix Potter tales. This one was completely devoid of accessories.
I induced Clyde to drop the uninvited guest, who wasted no time in heading for the same balcony I let Audrey onto earlier that day, but unfortunately for all of us, the screen door was closed. The squirrel promptly jumped onto the banister, where he found an attentive audience consisting of three extremely focused cats sitting below him. I opened the balcony door, shooed away the would-be predators, and the squirrel made a break for it, racing onto the balcony and out of sight.
Later that day, Rose’s daughter Citlali called me to alert me to the fact that she had just seen a bear lumbering across the Ridge at our driveway. I had arrived home a few minutes before, so I was surprised that I missed this exciting event (in fact, I have yet to see a bear in real life, which is just fine with me. I can stay a bear virgin for the rest of my life as far as I’m concerned). I’m pretty sure that bears are vegetarians, but I wasted no time in getting the cats inside anyway.
About midnight, I woke to a strange scratching sound. I checked to see if one of the cats had closed themselves into a drawer or the armoire, but that wasn’t it. The sound seemed to be coming from downstairs, so I went to investigate. It seemed to be under the stairs, where the box of my Dad’s letters has reposed since Rob started the great bathroom adventure last summer. Audrey sometimes wedges herself in there, but she was asleep upstairs, and I wondered if the squirrel had somehow squirreled himself away in there.
Moments like these are when you realize you’re a grown up. No one else is going to open up the box which may contain a fugitive rodent, or retrieve the pearl earring you dropped in the toilet. I gingerly opened a flap, but it was a rodent-free zone. It turned out that the culprit was the Mysterious Mr. Roscoe, clawing enigmatically at the box for reasons which are unfathomable to me but perfectly logical to a cat. Being Cat Staff can be a little challenging – and sleep depriving.
A YEAR AGO: Cars and dogs – what else is there?