Journal of a Sabbatical

September 29, 1999

do cats lie about love?

Today's Starting Pitcher: Game 1: Kent Mercker, Game 2: Pat Rapp

The Red Sox clinched the wild card today!

Today's Reading: Danube by Claudio Magris

Chloe acts lovey-dovey and lures Roy into petting her, then she turns around and rakes him with her claws. Last night, Jeffrey Masson wondered aloud if there was such a thing as a hypocritical cat. None leaped to mind until this morning, but Chloe might fit the bill. She definitely lures you in deliberately by pretending affection. None of us really understand Chloe, who really is mostly a nice cat, but can be deceptive. Anyway, today she's got a nice cozy cardboard box that some canned food came in or something and she has curled up inside it away from the other cats and the humans who want to interact with her. She seems as happy as the proverbial clam.

Some of the litter boxes were ridiculously poopy today but no one owns up to dispensing treats last night. The poor cats! If they have a bout of diarrhea we have to withhold food for 24 hours and monitor them for signs of illness. So not only do the have the misery of the intestinal upset caused by the treats, but then they have to go hungry. At least if people wrote down that they gave treats, we'd have some clue what was wrong. My Wilbur goes mental for treats, bolts them down, and then has really miserable diarrhea and vomiting. Of course, he's allergic to them so that's an extreme case and I never give them to him (a former pet sitter did - that's why she's former - current pet sitter knows treats are forbidden). I can't believe I'm ranting about cat treats. I am obviously taking work much too seriously. I need a vacation. But wait, I just had one! Time to chill out.

Jaguar was very affectionate with me today, purring and exposing his chin for petting and looking for more when I tried to stop. He's got to be quite old by now. He was, I think, 11 when I started working there in 1995 so that would make him 15. He might even be older. He has mellowed a whole lot in that time. He suffers himself to be touched and even sometimes picked up without biting or scratching anymore. He even initiates contact with people now. He never did that before. I remember the day he first came toward me and Dawna was astonished at this new behavior. For a long time, he favored Dawna and sometimes me, but nobody else. Now he even sometimes, but rarely, approaches prospective adopters. And he LOVES Josh, the special needs kid who folds laundry in the afternoon. Jaguar's idea of a good time is to head-butt Josh while he's folding laundry. Cats change.

Miraculously, Roy and I were done with the dishes and litter boxes, even the big community ones, by 11:30. I didn't take any pictures today because I didn't get a chance to have the lens cleaned from Monday's family gathering. I intended to stop at a photo shop for some lens cleaner and some lens papers (which I am unaccountably out of) this morning, but the two places I stopped at don't open 'til 9:00. I figured if it was really necessary I could go into Newburyport after I finished cleaning and then come back, but we only have one new cat - an adorable, fine-boned, white, short-haired female with blue eyes - who is already spoken for. She came in on Monday and had a hold on her yesterday. White cats except Jaguar always go fast.

The boy with the ant tattoo at Andover Photo cleaned the lens for me this afternoon, so I'm back in business if any new cats should arrive. Not to mention any family gatherings or soccer matches requiring photographs.

Andrea spits at the rental car because it's not the Auntmobile. I guess that's her way of expressing loyalty to me. Scientists are so skeptical about animal emotions, but are human emotions any less measurable and standardized? Can any thinking person really say that Andrea has emotions and Chloe doesn't? If Chloe had to do Andrea's homework there's no telling what might happen though.

Andrea is making a kind of planetarium thing out of a shoe box with holes punched in the end to represent the stars. She's studying the constellations in school and she's supposed to punch holes in the configuration of Draco. Hmm, I remember Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, Orion... but not Draco. We'll have to look it up. The dictionary entry for constellations doesn't show any of them - yes, there is a dictionary entry for constellation as it doesn't fall between carbonic acid and cat.

The bookshelves reveal lots of field guides to birds, insects, and amphibians but none to stars. I know there's an encyclopedia around here somewhere. Lizzy, who is immersed in her math homework making frequency tables, says there is a children's encyclopedia somewhere but she doesn't remember where.

Andrea and I search the house upstairs and down. She's looking under stacks of videos in the Purple Room and I'm looking in her bedroom. Finally, I look in the bookcase is Lizzy's bedroom next to her desk. There it is all neatly shelved. Looking up Draco was an anticlimax.

Punching the holes is a whole 'nother story. Andrea's teacher said to use a Phillips screwdriver. Well, I don't know what kind of cardboard she had in mind, but the screwdriver is not doing it. Andrea wants to try the scissors and starts to punch a hole with the scissors open. Umm, you don't hold the scissors by the blade! Back to the screwdriver. I keep working on it.

Suddenly, Andrea tells me this isn't really her homework that is due tomorrow. Her real homework is a poem she's supposed to write. I assure her I'll work on the science project while she writes the poem.

Lizzy has moved on to Latin homework. She's writing little factoids about her life in Latin: In Groton habito.

I check Andrea's spelling and she goes to bed.

When Kevin returns from the middle school open house, he's glad he's not in sixth grade. I leave the third grade science project for him.