Meow, Meow

Everyone knows that the male species does its own thing when it's good and ready – not a moment before – and “October” has been no exception.

To combat the pandemic blues last spring – in May 2020 – my dear old friend Bonnie and her younger daughter, Rachel, rescued three-year-old October, born in a litter with “April,” “May,” and “August."  

Longtime cat lovers, they were pretty excited to have a furry friend to keep them company and occupied, given all the hours they spent at home, alone together. Besides, Rachel wouldn’t be living with her mom forever, and my girlfriend liked the idea of having a companion for the long haul as well as rescuing one of the many animals in need of a loving caregiver.

When they brought October home, Bonnie and Rachel were chomping at the bit to cozy up with their new roommate. For his first few nights with the ladies, October was, as you might expect, rather shy, tentative, perhaps frightened. He spent most of his time hiding behind the clothes dryer or under the TV cart, where Bonnie placed a mirror on the floor so they could keep their eyes on him. She also picked up a pheromone diffuser for cats, hoping it would help to alleviate his stress.

While October warmed up to Rachel first, it wasn’t for at least a year that he began to pop in and out of Bonnie’s bedroom, heading straight for the windowsill or the door. He then started to stroll in and sniff around but not settle in; he continued to inch toward her while keeping a safe distance. 

Finally, after a year-and-a-half, I woke up to this text: 

“October spent the night in my bed!”

Bonnie has had some pretty special moments in her life, but I get the feeling that October's first show of affection and trust may have been one her most fulfilling ever.    

She has begun to climb into bed earlier on occasion in the hopes that he'll join her and the two of them can snuggle while watching TV. When he’s in the mood, he keeps her nice and warm, sleeping next to or on top of her or folded into her legs.

“I had more pep in my step this week,” she said, warning me when I ooed and aahed that while her little "love bug" is sooooo affectionate, it's only on his terms.

It's All Relative

Four years ago, I was asked to babysit for Grandbaby No. 1, one day each week. While I was sooooooo excited, I began to wonder...Am I up for this? Would I remember anything about taking care of babies?

Our babysitting days were Tuesdays, and each one was exhausting! When the day with Eliana ended around 4:30 or 5, I was comatose. On Wednesday, I could hardly move. My knees were sore, my back hurt, my arms throbbed.

Once Ethan, Eliana’s younger brother, was just over one year old, I was asked, “Will you babysit for the 2 kids?” I thought OMG, is this going to be possible? One child was a lot. Would my body survive? Would we be able to give each attention and meet their individual needs?

I said “Yes, of course,” but these concerns swirled around my head.

I summoned a wonderful Mother’s Helper for extra support those first couple of months of this new arrangement, certain that two kids meant at least two sets of eyes and ears were optimal to ensure that I’d be returning the kids intact, with no scratches or horror stories to be told to the parents.

On my feet all day long, continually getting snacks/meals, changing diapers or hanging out in the bathroom, playing with puzzles and other games, switching the remote from the Descendants 2 to Mickey Mouse Club to the Descendants 3, picking up one and then the other and trying periodically to do both, I began to realize just how easy one kid had been, which of course I did not realize at the time.

Just as I was settling in with the two, our youngest grandchild May and her family came to stay with us for a few weeks. Although I had volunteered to babysit and wanted very much to do it, there was a component of this plan that impacted me in a familiar way: how would Tuesday madness play out?

Contemplating three kids, two kids no longer seemed so tricky.  

It just so happened that I was telling a girlfriend about the challenge ahead for my Tuesday tripleheader, and she said, “I will come help you!” I had no shame in taking her up on her very kind offer. Even with her assistance, three seemed like a lot to manage, although I admit I was loving it at the same time.

Their stay with us is coming to an end and, as much as it has been chaotic to be responsible for the three at one time, I found myself wishing that Zoey, Grandbaby No. 3, was here too. She’d have had such fun getting in on the action with her cousins and I’d have loved being surrounded by all of four of our delicious grandbabies.