Unlikely Savior

Today began as many other summer days had. I pulled myself from my night’s rest and looked down from my cat tree to observe my charges.

Mother and Babe are getting ready to go for a walk. Babe is in a hurry to go. “Go Walk” he repeats. Mother is hurrying to pile everything they will need into the stroller. Toys, bottles, snacks, a jacket (though it is already 97 degrees), hat, sunscreen.

“Go walk” Babe says again.

“ Yes, yes, we are going for a walk”, Mother sings as she doubles back once again to grab her tea. And at the last moment, snatches up Babe’s favorite blanket.

I jump down from my perch and explain to mother that she should not take the blanket. She just pats my head and tells me it isn’t time for my food.

Does she think that after living here for five years, I do not know what time my food is served?

Since Babe came along she is so scatterbrained. Yet she treats me as if I am the one who is losing my mind.

I tried telling her more forcefully, speaking at a higher volume, but she only matched my volume, repeated that that it was not time for my food and continued hustling Babe and all his supplies out the door.

I watched them from the window as she pushed the buggy while balancing her tea… I shake my head . . . People…

I resettled myself atop my tree perch and breathed away my frustration at being so summarily dismissed.

When I had finally returned to my Zen state, the door banged open and Mother and Babe clanked in. Babe was working himself into a frenzy. Babe is ready for lunch. Mother will not tell him to wait until it is time.

Everything seemed to be unsatisfactory. He wanted something but I could not decipher what it was.

Mother was trying to hurry them inside, put away the stroller, put the milk in the warmer, set up the highchair and get Babe out of the stroller. None of these activities are accomplished with precision. Eventually, Mother and Babe were in their places at the kitchen table.

Out came a dozen options Babe could choose for lunch.

I hate this ritual. Babe seems to reject each offering just for the fun of it. Mother gets increasingly exasperated with each “no”, yet her smile and high-pitched happy tone continue.

I excuse myself and go into the other room to continue my nap / centering practices.

I emerge later when my dinner time arrives to find the place in disarray. The tv is blaring. Babe is inconsolable. Every blanket and toy is strewn about the room.

Babe is making gestures for his “Boobee” – such a ridiculous name. Why don’t they just call it what it is? Is blanket that much harder to say than ‘Boobee”? These humans make no sense.

Twelve other blankets are strewn about the floor, on the couch, across the table, tossed over the tv. All rejected by Babe. He only wants “Boobee” The tattered stringy one that he carries everywhere, drags through everything yet always wants to snuggle up with it at the end of every day.

I quickly realized what had happened. “Boobee” was lost. Babe is tired but cannot rest without it.

Mother has tried every substitution in the house. She has not eaten and is moving ever closer to “hangry” mode. I sit near Mother’s shoulder to offer some her some much needed calm and peace.

She looks at me and bursts into tears.

“I know, I know” she says. “It’s time for you to eat!”

I am taken aback, offended even. Does she think I care nothing about what is going on here? Does she think I am reprimanding her for not listening to me earlier?

I take a deep breath to collect myself. There is no need for all of us to lose our heads.

In these last two years since Babe has arrived, I have learned that late, or even, missed meals are all part of the package.

In truth, I do not mind so much. The changes in Mother since Babe arrived have been so fascinating to watch. Babe makes her softer somehow even though she sometimes speaks sharply or ignores me all together.

She is singing now. Holding Babe against her chest and rocking. A silly song from one of those mindless tv shows that Babe can watch for hours.

But Babe is somewhat content and even grunts/hums along when he recognizes the tune.

I smell father making his way to the door. I position myself to exit.

Undoubtedly, there will be more chaos when he arrives. He will bring anxiety and frustration with him. Sarcasm and passive aggressive anger will sprout wings and sweep into the room on his heels, cooling any tenuous peace Mother and Babe have been able to establish. Mother will tighten every muscle, rebuild every defense that has melted during the day. Babe will in turn begin to fret. Without “Boobee” to offer comfort, the evening will be totally shot. And this will become a “no dinner night”.

As usual, I must do what I can to help these people. . .my people. I cannot imagine how they made it before I came along. I suspect that tonight, without me, they will spend the evening getting into some inane argument about something totally unrelated to anything remotely important.

They are each quite intelligent and, were this some other family they were observing, either of them would be able to come up with hundreds of ways to resolve the problem of the lost blanket within a few moments. I cannot understand why they turn on each other instead and relive the same nightmare conversations. They get nowhere and both end up tied in knots.

I breathe these thoughts away and prepare to make my escape.

Father’s half-defeated breathing is just outside the door now. His keys rattle as he unlocks the door. Mother and Babe turn to greet him. Father opens the door wide and steps in just as I dart out. I hear Mother call my name as I exit. As I hurry away from the door, I hear Mother yell at Father that he has let me escape.

A little way down the street, I stop and sit and begin to filter out the smells. In no time I find what I am looking for. Babe’s and Mother’s familiar scent, accented by mint tea. I follow their trail from earlier in the day as easily as if they were right in front of me.

When I return home, I wait patiently at the patio door. The curtains are closed but father will be out soon to smoke. He comes out several times each night to take a few puffs. I do not understand why he needs to breathe in that toxic smoke when plain old air would do him so much good. One more thing I do not understand about people. Everything they need is right in front of them, yet they take great pains to ignore it.

Anyway, in a matter of minutes, the door slides open and I stride in. Father sees me, steps aside and announces to Mother and Babe,

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in”

Mother and Babe light up together and yell “Boobee!”