If You Give a Mouse a Cookie

Inspirational song: Come Back and Stay (Paul Young)

I shouldn't be as surprised as I am, how quickly the pride got used to daily trips out into the Park. They're reacting to it about the same way I am. We've all been strictly indoor cats (me by choice and circumstance), and getting to roam freely is a relatively new thing in our existence. This morning I was moving slowly, still in just a bathrobe, waiting for my coffee to brew. I checked out front, to see that I had completely missed both peace rose buds I had been watching, and very nearly missed a third. On my way back in from taking pictures, the old man cat took the initiative and escaped. Barefoot and barely covered, I had to chase him. I think I heard the Benny Hill theme playing while he eluded me. Going outside has already become a daily ritual, and he was determined to get it.

Taking the hint, I opened the back door and let the pride loose. There has been a ceaseless cacophony of angry birds and squirrels since. Without the dogs patrolling our borders, it appears all kinds of wildlife has pressed forward and laid claim to my Park. There are fewer blueberries growing than when last I looked, and far more anthills. Not all the plants fared well in my absence. I had a dear friend keep the cats alive, but I never got a chance to walk her around and show her how to keep the plants happy. It was my failing, not hers, and I will triage plants as best I can over the next week or so. I wish I knew more about fruit trees. One of my peach trees has all but died in the five days since I left. It was the one closest to the swamp, so perhaps it had too much water. The plum tree that was below it lost a similar battle.

I am glad to be back during this point in the season. We have entered the phase when the entire town smells like flowers. I noticed when I got off the plane, and when I was outside with the cats, and again just now when I returned from lunch on a rooftop downtown. I am going to be busy every day this week with end of year socials and receptions, but I will make a point of stopping to breathe in the floral-scented air while I have it.

Absences wear differently on different people, and that translates down to four-legged family members. Since I returned yesterday, my white cat won't leave my side. She tailed me outside, and while I watered out front, she watched through the door, upset to be separated by glass. Even now she paws my legs while I write, so I have to stop every few words and pet her. I had this idea that while the man was away on his assignment, after my club obligations ended, I would travel at will. But boarding the dogs and facing the white face of guilt upon each return make that plan seem unrealistic.