“I heated up your coffee cup before I put the coffee in,” Daniel said. “That’s what love looks like, in case you were wondering.”
Daniel is a great giver of gifts, and they are usually the kind that matter most— like a pre-warmed coffee cup. Daniel gives me candy bars. I do not eat candy bars, so it is odd that he knows what kind I like best (Pearson’s Salted Nut Rolls). Daniel tells me I could stand to put on a few pounds. I can pretty much guarantee that any man who tells a woman that she, “could stand to put on a few pounds” will be adored.
It may be that some women were looking for sparkly jewels in a box. This Valentine’s Day, I was looking for a place to leave Lucy.
Lucy, as I have mentioned, is my cat companion of many years. Calling her a “pet” somehow misrepresents the relationship that most people (myself included) have with their cats. This tiny cat is my travel companion, my home office co-worker, my longtime confidant and cat friend. Lucy came from the animal shelter where she had spent more than a year waiting (somewhat impatiently) for someone to see beyond her disabilities and recognize her for the boon companion she longed to be. I identified her as a kindred spirit immediately and she came home with me that day.
Lucy’s adoption was delayed by the fact that she is stone-deaf, the result of having what the veterinarian referred to as the worst case of ear mites he had ever seen. (If you are eating, you might want to skip this next part.) The nasty ear mites chewed all the way through her eardrums so that she was left with one, uninterrupted cavity for ears, nose, and throat. The result is not just total deafness, but a chronic and incurable sinus infection. In the summer it is not too bad. But in the winter (there is no polite way to say this) Lucy blows snot. She will have a sneezing fit that will culminate in a giant blast of mucus followed, occasionally, by vomiting. Then she feels much better.
(You can start reading again.)
Additionally, and also possibly due to her deafness, she loses track of where people are when she falls asleep. Upon awakening, she lets out an extremely loud and very peculiar yowl, indicating distress. She does this until the nearest person (me) comes back into her vision. Upon seeing me, she is immediately pacified. Unfortunately, her distress invariably occurs in the middle of the night. The sound is penetrating (again, likely due to her deafness) and sounds like a cross between a crying human infant and an irate donkey.
I was going to my book club’s annual retreat at a cabin up north and, for the reasons outlined above, bringing Lucy along is difficult. So I asked Daniel if she could stay with him and he said “yes.”
I called last night. Lucy was agitated, I have not left her often. She was, according to Daniel, walking over to his front door and braying loudly. She apparently felt something was amiss. I had never taken off with Milo (who is only a dog for Pete’s sake!) and left her behind.
She had a massive sneezing fit, Daniel said, with the expected results, and then more or less settled in. Daniel didn’t complain about the mess.
“She misses you,” he said simply. “I do too.”
Now, that’s my idea of a Valentine’s Day present.
Till next time,
—Carrie
