Inky's stay with us is winding down. Her owners tell me they will be back in town next week.
Inky's temperament has proven perfectly suited to our household: she makes her presence known, but has her own schedule and preferences. Princess that she is, she only deigns to allow us to care for her. She has her agenda and plans, and if her path happens to cross with ours, she might permit us to pet her or play with her.
After two months of warning the boys not to get too attached, I am the one who is overly devoted to Inky. (Perhaps I can negotiate visitation rights?)
Yesterday, at a sale, Hart discovered a toy calico cat, and rushed over to show me, crowing, “Inky, Inky, Inky.” We are complete pushovers for stuffed animals. I hesitated. But in that nano-second I realized that having a toy representation of Inky is bound to be difficult once she leaves. After Hobbes died, Jeff told me that the two snapshots of her on the fridge “made him sad,” so I removed them. A toy Inky is no equivalent for the real one.
“Let’s buy it for Inky’s parents!” I said to Hart. I had a brief notion of presenting it to them as a "welcome home" token. But again, good sense overcame impulse. I know that if we bring that toy into the house, we will never be able to relinquish it, no matter how well-meaning our intentions.
Inky's temperament has proven perfectly suited to our household: she makes her presence known, but has her own schedule and preferences. Princess that she is, she only deigns to allow us to care for her. She has her agenda and plans, and if her path happens to cross with ours, she might permit us to pet her or play with her.
After two months of warning the boys not to get too attached, I am the one who is overly devoted to Inky. (Perhaps I can negotiate visitation rights?)
Yesterday, at a sale, Hart discovered a toy calico cat, and rushed over to show me, crowing, “Inky, Inky, Inky.” We are complete pushovers for stuffed animals. I hesitated. But in that nano-second I realized that having a toy representation of Inky is bound to be difficult once she leaves. After Hobbes died, Jeff told me that the two snapshots of her on the fridge “made him sad,” so I removed them. A toy Inky is no equivalent for the real one.
“Let’s buy it for Inky’s parents!” I said to Hart. I had a brief notion of presenting it to them as a "welcome home" token. But again, good sense overcame impulse. I know that if we bring that toy into the house, we will never be able to relinquish it, no matter how well-meaning our intentions.
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