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Huntington An Introduction
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November 06, 2006 - 6:56 AM Los Arroyos [Note the time. This is when my clock radio would normally chime in, awakening me with the dulcet tones of Morning Edition. No alarm is necessary this a.m., however, because the Cat Bo is much more insistent than Steve Inskeep and Renee Montagne ever thought of being.] [The Cat Bo is my company up here at my parents' as I housesit this week. The parents live in gorgeous, fall-colored, deafeningly quiet Sonoma Valley (I may have mentioned it a time or two), and have taken a fortnight to lark and play Back East. I took Week Two, remembering that week two years ago right after law school when I was at leisure and spent a nice week up here with Bo and the (late, lamented-by-all-except-the-coyote-that-got-her) Goose Lila. I was so "at leisure" that the prospect of the free food and drink at my parents' made for a definite line item in what I laughingly called my budget for the month.] [Well, things aren't that desperate now, but I still jumped at the chance, even though it would mean commuting to and from the city (about an hour without the usual horrendous traffic in Marin) all week. Quiet. More free food and drink. Mom's car at my disposal. The "wine cellar," which really is in the basement; it's not that glamorous, but it is full. Time away from my somewhat absurd living situation. Quiet.] [I took today off to take some time to enjoy the house and Sonoma. Oooh, sleeping in on a Monday...what a treat! Well, no. People talk about cats' cold indifference, their independence. Someone needs to talk to the Cat Bo about this, because since I got here last night, he hasn't left a room if I'm still an occupant. He misses his mommy. It's just like being with the Dog Bruno except Bo doesn't bark at flies. I assume he just efficiently catches and eats them with dignity.] [It so happened that I was just waking up for sure when Bo started ascending me like an Alp, suggesting pointedly that Mommy was certainly up before now and applying her groovy, wall-mounted can opener to the 9 Lives. Mommy doesn't lollygag in bed until 6:45! OK, fine; I'd gone to sleep at 9:30 anyway, since it was dark and deathly quiet and there was nothing better to do.] [When I arrived last night, and after calling Mom's cell phone for a quick reminder about where she'd put the housekey (oops; however, she seemed happy to hear from me, and got good reception on the boat from New York to Cape May), I noticed the full-length, legal-size note on the kitchen counter. It had started as Mom's familiar block-caps giving hotel and flight info, etc. I deduced from the different handwriting and ink colors that both parents had added to the note a few times. I think the last addition was Mom's equally familiar cursive scrawl, mashed in at the bottom of the page:]["Bo hasn't been eating much lately. It's not you. If he gets like he's dying, Los Arroyos, put him down. I'll pay you back."] [Los Arroyos is the closest vet. I don't think I signed up for this. OK, Bo; even if it's your last meal, and you only take two dainty bites, you'll get it on time.] | |