The Dog Days of Summer, from a Cat’s Perspective

September 16 at 8 o’clock p.m. and it’s still 86 degrees. Summer’s last blast, I suppose.

I’m taking the week off in a mad dash to get our house listed to sell. Today was the day to seal the driveway.

I failed.

Tomorrow is another day.

The little TV in the kitchen is tuned to the Cardinal’s game. It’s the bottom of the seventh and we just took a 4 to 2 lead. The faint scent of crushed garlic and fried potatoes linger in the air.

Tomorrow is trash day. I walked onto the front porch with the last of the refuse. Mrs. G is sprawled on one of the chairs. She is a cat that likes her comfort and has little tolerance for heat or rain. At some point when I wasn’t watching Mrs. G and Mimsy made a pact that they would just ignore each other and pretend their counterpart didn’t exsist.

It may be September, but summer is still in full force. The distintive sound of the hard plastic wheels of the trash bin pushed across the yet-to-be-sealed driveway cannot drown out the symphony of crickets, katydids and tree frogs that serenade me.

It is a season of chapter turnings and I resign myself to that. Today my grandson turned 13. The dreaded teen-aged years. He is now as tall as me and when we called to wish him a happy birthday, the voice that greeted us on the other end was deeper than I expected or wanted. Fortunately, his character and kindness are undiminished with his new status.

In a few weeks, my oldest daughter will be married. Another chapter turning and I couldn’t be happier for her and my soon to be son-in-law.

10:00 o’clock, I make the circuit to turn off the lights and check on the house. I step onto the front porch. Mrs. G hasn’t moved. The warm air embraces me and I try to store that feeling in my memory bank for the coming winter. I stare across the street, and my mind wanders, aware of the pages and chapters that turn before me. It is the essence of life, drifting, moving, changing. Sometimes good, sometimes not so good, but never without hope.

I step inside, Mimsy is waiting for me to escort her for the last stroll of the night.

Poppy must walk the dog.