Another in my backlog of Mulberry posts…
Scene: I’m sitting on the couch enjoying a few minutes of down time during Thanksgiving break, when The Five-Year-Old walked into the playroom, blue scissors in hand, and said,
"I don't care how much stuff you put on me. I am not rolling over so that you can take a picture of my back."
“Mom, the cat fur is for my lion’s nest.”
Moments later, I found Mulberry, cowering under the dining room table, with a suspiciously large bald spot on her back. Miraculously, neither the child nor the cat was bleeding.
Judging by the size of that spot, Mulberry must have stayed very still and very quiet for a very long time.
In other news, although the next spring break is still three weeks away, my surviving cat, Cozy, has already begun lobbying for me to take The Five-Year-Old on a trip to the Cape. Can you blame him?
Related articles:
- R.I.P. Mulberry the Cat, January 1995 – March 2012 (Caterpickles)
- In which The Four-Year-Old plans the cats’ Thankgiving (Caterpickles)
Shala Howell
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