This morning I was woken up by Tomoe, our black half-Siamese female. She jumped into the bed and rubbed on my head, until I stirred.
”Tomoe, morning.” I mumbled pulling the covers over my head.
Now that ruse doesn’t deter Tomoe. She stuck her head under the edge of the blanket just enough so she found my hair and gave it a little tug.
“Ok, I’m awake. What do you want?’ I peeked out from under the blanket.
Tomoe happily bumped my forehead and chirped. She turned her back to me and jumped off the bed and sauntered towards the bathroom.
Tomoe’s greatest enjoyment is drinking water out of my husband’s hand. I am not her first choice; she just couldn’t wake him up. Reluctantly she decided to allow me the honor.
I rolled over and poked Michael’s shoulder. “Tomoe’s thirsty.”
He made an indistinguishable sound, and didn’t move.
Tomoe doesn’t meow like the other cats, she chirps like a baby chick, very sweet and gentle. This coming June she will be with us three years. We had decided to adopt one cat, and came home with two.
At the shelter, she was frightened, and hurt from over zealous little ones.
When she was handed to my husband she weighed two pounds. From that point on he never put her down. He carries her, coo’s at her and hand feeds her food and water. When she is frightened, he will hide under blankets with her. The house is safe, as long she can see her Daddy. She plays Xbox with him, and complains if he isn’t feeling well. She follows him everywhere.
I could hear her musical chirp echoing off the bathroom walls.
I could tell myself I had two choices. One; stay in bed and ignore her. Or two; get up and give her what she wants. But, in reality I have to get up. Tomoe is calling!
I pushed off the blankets, and followed her summons.
Tomoe was pacing on the edge of the sink. Her tail held high, she rubbed against my arm and asked for kisses, by lifting her head up high, and placing one paw on my arm.
The running water sounded loud in the early morning quiet. I filled the palm of my hand with cold water. Then turned off the faucet, and waited with my eyes closed as she daintily drank from my hand.
When she was finished she jumped off the sink and took my spot in the bed.
At that point, Uriah realized I was up and decided he wanted out. Grabbing my robe I followed his happy wiggle to the door. I stepped outside with him, in that frigid morning air.
The sun was a defused yellow-white blur; it took over the entire southern sky.
The sky itself was a soft looking, powdery blue.
Long rectangular shadows, from the trees, added straight blue lines that stretched along the ground. Shadows skipped along the snow in frozen waves, patterned haphazardly across the yard in blues, grays and whites.
Every tree was covered in whitish-blue frost, and the horizon was a blur of pastel blues.
I could tell you how quiet it was. But I would be lying. One truck after another passed by on the road. I could hear the whining rumble before I saw them. They passed in a cloud of snow. Someone was busy working. I just wished they would slow down.
I tossed out a few pieces of dog food onto the snow. And watched as Uriah waddled off under the Blue Spruce, I stepped back inside the warm house.
After about fifteen minutes I went to the door to let Uriah back in. I was greeted by the shrill screech of a Blue Jay. I watched the Young Blue Jay through the window. This bird’s color was duller, more grey than blue. Its beak was very long and sharp looking. Still a beauty! The Jay landed next to the dog food. Looked up at me, and grabbed one piece of kibble, and carried it off over the barn. Then turned to the east and blended into the trees.
Uriah came running up to the door with snow on his nose and back. He glanced at the pieces of kibble still in the snow. Pawed at one piece and ate it.
When I opened the door, he hurried back into where it was warm…