A couple months ago I was on my walk, and I saw a real estate sign in front of a house that was getting an addition. It said, “Still Cute, Just Bigger.” It made me think of the kittens. They are undeniably bigger. Willow, who was just two pounds when we got them in late May now weighs almost ten pounds, and Walter, who weighed two and a half pounds, now tips the scales at twelve and a half pounds. And I can say with complete objectivity that they are still cute.
Games
But they are no longer kittens. They turned one on Monday (if the date the shelter gave us was accurate and not an estimate). Because they do not need any more toys, for their birthday I decided to give them the experience each one wants most.
For Walter, that’s to go outside. He is always trying (and often succeeding at) running out the door when anyone opens it, but we are trying to keep him an inside cat for his own health and so he doesn’t catch birds. When I’m doing yardwork, I often glance back at the house and see him watching me wistfully from the window and he will sit by the door and meow, hoping we will let him out. We had a similar situation when Xander was young, and we eventually gave in and let him come and go as he pleased. (He was never much interested in hunting anyway. Matthew, who was more of a homebody, was the mouser in that pair.)
I took Walter with me when I went out to hang laundry on the line Monday morning and then when I was done, I sat on the back steps with toast and a cup of tea and kept an eye on him. He went all over our big back yard, watched birds in the sky and chased a bug in the grass. He crawled under the kids’ old wagon, sniffed the daffodils, and explored the weedy area at the very back of the yard. I had to go join him then because it turns out his black-on-brown stripes are good camouflage in March-brown vegetation, and I wanted to make sure he didn’t try to slip under the fence and escape the yard. He was outside for twenty-five minutes with me and then in the afternoon, Noah took him out again.
Willow doesn’t care to go outside, but what she loves most is the elusive red dot of the laser pointer. She loves it so much we don’t let her play with it very often because if we do it too often, she becomes obsessed and doesn’t want to play with anything else. North has also speculated that spending so much time chasing something she can’t catch cannot be good for her mental health. But I got out the laser pointer that morning and then again in the afternoon for about five minutes each time. If she plays with it longer than that she will wear herself out and she starts to pant with exhaustion. Walter likes the red dot, too, (though he seems equally happy with other playthings, like the worm-on-a-string or the mouse-on-a-string), so he joined in with her. They both like to dash after the dot if it’s on the floor, but Willow also likes to leap up in pursuit of it, if it’s on the wall. She particularly likes it in corners of rooms and will stand there sometimes, hoping for it to appear. She did that a few times the day after their birthday, but not for as long as I’d feared she would.
Names
When we named the kittens, I gave them middle names after Matthew and Xander—Walter Matthias and Willow Alexandra, but as they grew, I started to think I’d gotten it backwards. Of course, no cat is exactly like any other, but Walter’s sweet, friendly nature paired with his intense desire to go outside reminds me of Xander and Willow’s more high-strung temperament and her deep suspicion of any strangers who come in the house (though she is very affectionate with us) is more reminiscent of Matthew. So, this is my official announcement—they are now Walter Alexander and Willow Matilda.
These are deeply upsetting times, but whether these two are chasing images on the television screen or upsetting the paper recycling bin and scattering its contents all the way down the hall or curling up to sleep in our laps, they brighten every single day. I am looking forward to many more years with them.
Shame
I sometimes think one of the nicest things about being a cat might be not knowing anything about the political state of our country. But we know, so we keep going to protests. Beth went to a general purpose one on the lawn on the Capitol about a week ago and all three of us went to protest at Tesla dealership in Rockville last Saturday morning. It’s a weekly event if you’re local and want to go. (If you’re not local, there may be something similar near you. They are happening all over.)
Three hundred and seventy-two people were there toward the end, when one of the organizers did a head count. Because everyone was standing on the sidewalk berm on both sides of Rockville Pike, we must have been easy to count. We stood facing the six-lane street with our signs—my favorite was “OMG GOP WTF”—rang cowbells and occasionally chanted. “Hey hey, ho ho, Elon Musk has got to go” was the only one that ever caught on. Response from drivers was very encouraging. There were near constant honks of support from cars, and delivery trucks, and even a Metro bus. People waved and stuck their raised fists out their car windows and yelled in agreement. In the not quite an hour we were there, I only saw one thumbs down, and Beth saw one person give us the finger. (Some of the people yelling their support were even driving Teslas.) It was quite heartening and as a bonus, one of the protesters was handing out homemade oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Afterward we had lunch at Busboys and Poets, which was a nice treat. Like cats, people need those too.