Tigger enjoying a few tender moments alone – Photo: L. Weikel
Most Treasured
It’s funny. I keep trying to jump-start this post by declaring what I refuse to write about for a third night in a row. For once, I really wanted to witness victory being snatched from the jaws of all-but-certain defeat. But it was not meant to be. Apparently we really are going to have to live out the nightmare of watching our country’s most treasured and revered foundational concepts crumble before our eyes, mostly because people simply cannot wrap their heads around the fact that this ‘really could happen’ in the United States.
So tonight I’m just going to keep it light.
Cuteness Prevails
Take Tigger, for example. According to the adoption papers we received when he was rescued years ago by my son and his then girlfriend (now wife), he’s starting to get up there in years. In fact, I think he may be 16 years old or so.
Tigger is by far the most patient of all our animals, but especially the most patient of our felines. He was the first to welcome the pups with open paws, and he endures relentless acts of butt-sniffing and puppy-tackles on a daily basis. It’s rare for him to lash out at either pup. Indeed, the only times I’ve ever seen him hiss or retaliate in any form were when they either took him utterly by surprise or, not surprisingly, when they simply refused to knock off their antics after too many tumbles or nips.
As many of my photos attest, the pups tend to be hogs when it comes to nestling in front of the fire. Once they’ve outgrown puppyhood, I’m pretty sure they’ll welcome cuddling with the felines – or perhaps I should say the cats may decide it’s safe to snuggle with them. But in the meantime, they swing from one end of the spectrum (as bundles of effervescent energy) to another (dead-weight, snoring, lights-out immovable lumps) in the blink of an eye. Consequently, the cats are finding languishing fireside to be an indulgence they rarely experience.
And so it was adorable earlier today when I discovered Tigger snatching a few zzzz’s hearthside, sharing the pet pillow with one of the pups’ favorite toys: the Fox. (The pups were asleep in their crate; I forget why.)
“MY Fox” – Photo: L. Weikel
Melts My Heart
It’s moments like these that melt my heart. Tigger, as old as he is, still plays like a frisky kitten – when the mood strikes him. Usually the mood hits when I’m making our bed. He mrrrows and arches his back, hops sideways and tackles my hand when I’m smoothing out the comforter. He’s hilarious. But I also watch him as he observes the mad scrambles of Pacha and Brutus when I throw their toy (the Fox, again, being a favorite) and they race to bring it back to me.
If it weren’t below his dignity, I actually think he’d be tempted to race after the toy himself and triumphantly bring it back to me. Or at the very least, jump on it and fling it a couple of times.
He just jumped up on the couch and mrrrowed to me. “Time for bed, Mommy.”
So now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to forget about the sad state of our country and go snuggle with my Tiggery.
(T+43)