The Visit of Pussycat
Poor Pussycat, each time she comes for a visit, she becomes unhappy. She hides and wants to be left alone. At this point she has come here enough times to be more comfortable, but not this time. Some things have changed. Clothilda is no longer my housekeeper. Blanca is back. She came in at 7:30 this morning because Christmas is in three days. This is her last day working before Christmas, so she was in a hurry to finish in order to go home and get ready for Christmas in her own home. She did not have the time nor the inclination to have a ‘let’s get acquainted,’ chat with Pussycat. She intently concentrated upon dusting, vacuuming, and mopping the house. She completely ignored poor Pussycat’s polite, ‘’Meow, how do you do? I am Pussycat.’’ Yes, Blanca completely ignored her. With her head held up high and her tail raised even higher, Pussycat gracefully exited the room.
She usually tolerated Picasso and Ebony, but that afternoon they entered the house with a great deal of jovial barking, followed by Kelly talking loudly on his cell phone. With the vacuum cleaner roaring away, the dogs prancing and squealing with joy, Kelly had no choice but to raise his voice. It was sheer pandemonium! I was in my room doing some paperwork. Pussycat decided the safest place to be was near me. With an alarmed Meow, she jumped onto my lap. She was followed by an exuberant Picasso and Ebony. With a terrified screech, she leaped off my lap and disappeared, not to appear until everyone was safely gone and the house was quiet once more. In the meantime, I had been concentrating on what I was doing. As a result, I too was startled. All my paperwork scattered every which way. The dogs jumped on my bed, and soon the room that had just been cleaned looked like a war zone. The dogs were now curled contentedly on my bed. Kelly followed. ‘’Mom! Picasso is limping again! He is not to climb stairs!’’ he admonished me.
I looked at him in surprise. I was in my room, minding my own business. They walked into my room unannounced and created a major upheaval. My papers were scattered all over the floor, Pussycat was nowhere to be seen. I looked at Kelly in askance. ‘’And how is this my fault?’’ I queried.
‘’Sorry Mum,’’ he replied, turned around, and left. I shook my head in disbelief and went back to what I was doing.
A few hours later they were all gone. Once more the house was quiet, except for the classical Christmas music that streamed out of the radio. Pussycat came out of his hiding place. He purred softly. “Can we go down and eat now? I’m hungry!”
Downstairs, Pussycat nibbled at his food. I sat curled on the loveseat in the living room forlornly looking out of the window. It was almost dusk. If Peter were still alive, he would have lit some logs in the fireplace, and we would have sat close together watching the logs merrily crackle and dance as they warmed the room. Thinking of him, a tear ran down my cheek. My thoughts turned gloomy. Where is he, I asked myself. What is he doing? Is there life after death? Will we meet again? I hope so, for I love him so much.
Pussycat finished his meal. He licked his chops in satisfaction and slowly came to sit on my lap. He purred contentedly and soon he fell asleep. I petted him as he slept. The house felt peaceful and quiet. Christmas carols played on the radio. I imagine Peter sitting by my side. The thought comforts me.