I gotta love the internet. How else would I know that this
is Drink Wine with Your Cat Week? I wouldn’t. I Now I get to share the idea
with you, my faithful readers, many of whom are lamenting the fact that Mud Season is
upon us, with posted roads, mud wallows and mess.
Mud season is the one season that is not my favorite. Spring? The best, with daffodils galore and countless snowdrops. Summer? Fabulous, with peonies and iris blooming at the same time, brightening the landscape and indoor arrangements. Then there is fall, my favorite, with maples making me moan with joy. Finally, my other favorite, winter, with the glory of snow and the stark beauty of the landscape. But mudseason? Not really much fun at all. But now, I have an excuse to drink wine with a cat in my lap. That’s good.
Winnie, the gray cat you see below in my lap, applied for a job here at my home in Cornish Flat as an adult cat over 18 years ago. At the time I had a pair of unruly former orange barn cats and two dogs. “Thank you,” I said when she showed up at the door asking for food and lodging. “But we have all the animals we need.”
Winnie and Henry
But Winnie persisted. She came and went, and I started putting out some dry Kat Krunchies on the deck. Then, in mid-January, temperatures went sub-zero. Far below zero. So I put a box with a blanket and a drop light for warmth (and for reading if she was so inclined) in my shed. I brought her bowls of hot water to drink and she started purring as soon as she saw me.
Then one Saturday morning there was a commotion at the front door. Not at the deck door with its glass panel. The front door. Very un-catlike noises. I went to investigate, and Winnie scooted in the door. She walked past 2 large dogs with her tail held high. She sat down next to the woodstove and refused to budge. She was our cat now.
So this week, during Drink Wine with Your Cat Week, I will celebrate Winnie and hold a glass on high in her honor. I will try to forget all the cat vomit (and worse) that she has gifted me. I don’t know if she’ll survive until next year, but I will try to remember all the good times she has shared with me.
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