In this photo, you can see her mentally inventorying her list of grievances, a big job for her. Her current list is too long to reproduce here; I asked her to condense it for a post in a couple of weeks, for her 5th birthday.
Here, she watches me with dilated, anxious eyes, wondering if she is Going To Die because I found her curled up in the box next to my desk.
Oddly enough, only Wendy and Harris were out and about, acting normally when we got home from the fireworks last night. We had a great time at a party on Beacon Street, and saw the display from picture windows overlooking the Charles. The racket was deafening, as usual, and we always wonder how the cats are handling it. We headed home soon afterward, hoping to beat the drenching downpour that was on its way. It hit just as we reached our front steps — we missed a soaking by a few seconds.
Inside, we found just two cats. I'd expect to see Harris because he was brought up to feel safe and secure from birth by his wonderful foster family. So Harris is a pretty cool cat. But it seems that Wendy feels like she under such a constant state of attack — facing imminent death at any moment — that a half-hour of warfare booming into her home doesn't add very much to her troubles.
I found Toffee and Possum under the sofa together, and soon all four cats were going crazy over those freeze-dried chicken treats that look and feel like balsa wood. What IS the appeal of that stuff? How can they even smell it? But they love nothing more, and turn into ravening beasts.
We didn't see Lion until early this morning. We have no idea where he hid. If you were reading here when I discovered him at his foster home in Maine last fall, you may remember that his original name was Cowardly Lion. We are all working on helping him find his Courage, and he's made progress — greeting some of our guests, starting boxing matches with Possum, and so on. But he still spooks easily, not that scary things happen very often around here. Mainly he fears the vacuum cleaner and trips to the vet. You know how much I hate vacuuming, so now I do it as infrequently as possible... for dear Lion's sake. (He's a godsend, in other words.)
He definitely needs a very calm, safe, understanding home. And aside from July fireworks and the occasional uproar from our canister vac, we're delighted to provide just that. But Wendy will tell you otherwise.