His, Mine, Ours.

Here's Sam and yours truly in front of the Bunker Hill Monument.
Here are pretty trees above a cemetery in the North End.

And here is Tadzio, Sam's kitty. He did not like the new young kitties showing up. He could tell as SOON as they walked through the door, and he started up the hiss-fest. But, actually, now, he's pretty chill. Meatsock hisses and hisses him, and he just waits for him to shut up so he can get by and get the cat food. Also, and here's the real bonus: he likes me more now. I must be the least of all the recently-added evils, but suddenly he lets me pet him and he'll sit on the bed when I'm in it and just generally doesn't give me evil eyes like he's always done. This is a miracle.

These are my kitties. They did not like the airport. Meatsock peed on himself, which made the ride home in the car REALLY fragrant and fun. And he pretty much cried from the time my parents left the house until Sam got done scrubbing him down with a hot and soapy washcloth. All of the cats slunk around that first night: terrified, angry, hissing, growling deep in their throats. Meaty couldn't even stop growling long enough to eat food, the poor little man. Sprouty, on the other hand, was dignified for the most part. Ever the lady, she just found a little corner to crouch down in and waited out the night. The next day she felt comfortable, and she's pretty much been curled like this ever since, in a perfect circle on my parents' suitcase. Tadzio's been spending the night in our room, and my cats have been spending the night in my parents' bed in the guest room. How my parents became people that would allow cats in their bed can only be explained by my cats' remarkable charm.

Overall, I'd say our cat-family is adjusting ridiculously well. We bought this special stuff that's a chemical simulation of facial pheremones, and we've been spraying that all around. It's supposed to make them comfortable in a new environment. If that's working as good as it seems to work, I'm planning on using it as perfume every time I go to a scary social gathering. Anyway, I'm glad they're here. I can't tell you how nice it is to come home and see my babies and wake them up and pet them and rub their bellies and snuggle them. I am much happier with my cats in the world.

And my parents. It's been wonderful having them in town. Mostly we've done our favorite things to do: take walks, eat yummy healthy food, and read books. We took them out for macrobiotic food in Waltham, for pho at a vietnamese place, and Sam made white bean soup one night and flounder another. I made a big batch of the healthy cookies. We went on the Freedom Trail around downtown Boston. I took them out to see the school I teach at. And all of the time in between that stuff, we've been reading and reading and talking about books and politics and podcasts.

I love these people. I wish I could keep them here like my kitties. I would put their food in a purple bowl and give them a place to sleep. If only that was enough.


Amara said…
You lucky duck. I need to have a womb weekend again --where I crawl back into my parent's house and they're the parents, and I'm the baby again. I love them too.
eden said…
okay... i have to ask. where did the name, "meatsock" come from?
Kira said…
This comment has been removed by the author.
Kira said…
I tried the purple bowl, Dad said he didn't like purple.
I am glad your step-son is liking you better, those blended families always have trouble.
Deja said…
Meatsock: originally his name was Ivy. That was before he manifested his maleness. Then his name was Ivan, but that seemed like a bummer.

Sam said he felt like a sock full of meat, so we started calling him Meatsock. This sounded to Sam like Itzhak Rabin, the former Israeli Prime Minister. So his full name, when spelled correctly, is Mitzhak Rabin. When he jumps up on the counter, Sam tells him it is behavior "most unbecoming of a nobel prize winner."
belann said…
Nice kitties. We kind of miss them.

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