We have anOTHER cat in our house. “Other”. That’s the cat’s name that lives in the bedroom behind the mirrored closet doors! I realize that’s what Amber’s been trying to tell me for some time. Amber watches her. She hops up on the bed and peers into the full-length mirror. “Other” is watching her: ears back, tail twitching. “Other” hunches and glares at Amber.
Now there may be other aliens at loose too. Amber basks in the sunshine and glares at that gray, gauzy cat-shape on the floor. It moves with her and then disappears. Amber stalks the perimeter of the room and “Shad-oh” hides.
If I may digress and tell a dog story. “Lady” was a small-size Jack Russell, the runt of the litter but not runt in spirit and sense. Lady loved to chase the butterfly shadows on the grass; she dashed back and forth, head down, eyes on the ground and pursued those butterflies. Once when the shadows disappeared, Lady paused, sniffed and then, threw her head back and studied the sky, looking for the butterflies. She knew where they really were! She was no dumb dog!
But back to Shad-oh. “Shad-oh ”that’s what Amber’s hooman calls it. I’ve been calling myself “Amber’s Mistress”; I do realize that has a rather doubtful connotation. But “hooman”, is that any more politically correct? Shouldn’t it be “hoo-man/woman” or “hoo-woo-man”? I think I’ll stick with Mistress and you can snicker if you wish.
I don’t call myself Amber’s Mommy because I’m not! I recognize the difference between humans and animals. That doesn’t mean I love Amber any less it just means I make a distinction between us. And incidentally I consider myself “in charge”, now don’t tell Amber that because I’m sure she thinks she’s in charge. If she could only open packages and cans she wouldn’t need me. And that drawer that closes when I tell her the treats are “all gone”. She knows better, one of these days she’ll figure out how to open that drawer. And then, unlimited treats!