Beloved

I've always been comforted by routine.  Even with an adventurous spirit, there is something very soothing and grounding about it's simplicity and predictability.  When I must have been about three years old, I can remember the daily rhythm of Sesame Street.  It came on after my nap.  I can still faintly remember that post-nap sleepy feeling and the reassurance of watching my favorite characters do their thing.  I also vaguely remember Mr. Rodgers and how soothing it was to watch him take off his jacket and street shoes and put on his cardigan and Keds (at least they looked like Keds to me).  So I try to incorporate a lot of routine into Buster's days and, honestly, this is probably as much for my comfort as it is for his.

Motley Crew

These guys are all a part of our daily rhythm.  These are the "people" in our neighborhood.  It occurred to me recently, that they are quite the mixed assortment.  They do all share one thing in common though, well, two things, actually:  1) They must all come from some French origin as they all greet Buster with a kiss on both cheeks;  2)  They all share his affection as evidenced by his gummy grinned response to their kisses.

Out of this motley crew, however, there remains a favorite.  A beloved who already has a slightly worn nose and often damp ear to prove it.  His name is Roy. Roy is the friend who is reached for when nothing else will do.  He is the buddy who is cuddled first thing in the morning and as the last thing before bed.  He accompanies us to the doctor's office and bravely stands by the tough stuff of life.  Like shots.

This mom's heart kind of wants the Roy stage to last for a long time.  Something about it feels warm and comforting.  Like groggy Sesame Street viewing after a long nap.

Roy the Beloved

Lu.

Before I became mom.  Before I became a wife.  Before I moved to the mountains...

I became a cat owner.

This was essentially a "hand me down" cat.  A friend had rescued her from the streets.  Well, actually, a friend had rescued her from a suburban Denver neighborhood.  Due to the fact that this cat has something buried deep inside her that makes her want to kill any cat that comes within her line of sight, my friend, already a cat owner, had to find a different home for this little aggressor.  My friend basically challenged me to just "try out" this cat for a week.  So I did.  That was about five years ago.  And I named her Lu.

Lu and I have had our challenges.  Like coming home from work after one day of owning her to find her hanging from my shower curtain.  Like continually having to "rescue" her off of the roof of the house that I lived in because, for a period of time, she preferred to try to enter the house through an upstairs window.  Like a very expensive visit to the emergency vet after Lu took on her nemesis, Mike, the neighborhood orange cat.

And yet, I love this animal.  She pretty much does nothing all day long other than lay on soft things.  But I do love her.  She has endured many changes with me including moving to the mountains and subsequently becoming an indoor cat.  Though I think she'd hold her own against this new neighborhood's cats, she probably wouldn't fair so well against the bear that my husband saw off our deck about two years ago.

I have, however, recently become aware of some very passive aggressive behavior coming from my cat.  And, I have to say, it pushes my buttons.  I mean, it REALLY pushes my buttons.

I have developed a little routine that involves a cup of coffee and a few minutes just to be still in the morning after I put Buster down for his first nap.  I love this time.  And, lately, just as I sit down and reach for that first sip of coffee, Lu appears out of nowhere.  She marches over to my cup of coffee and she begins to pretend like she burying my coffee.  Like it is so distasteful to her that the only option is to bury it deep inside the earth.  And then she marches off to go lay on something soft.

It drives me bonkers.  It is so unnecessary, so opinionated.  So catty.