Being Kneaded

Anyone who has followed life on Casa Claire knows about Smokey the feral cat that has staked out CC as her territory for a number of years.

And next to Claire and Honey,

Smokey receives most of my attention.

Other creatures have joined Smokey in the lavish meals regularly served by yours truly (and occasionally Lisa) on the front porch, different cats – most recently and regularly Mittens a/k/a Mike,

as well as the neighborhood fox, our neighbor’s dogs Chloe and Nakita, and back during their time on this energy plain, Blue and Jeter, when they could sneak out the front door into the Jack The Spruce Grotto. What can I say, we regularly serve large helpings of tasty cat food throughout the day, evening and early morning hours. And to add a bit of Irony, even Blue Jays come by to regularly swipe the dry cat food.

You see, there is an aura of protection around Casa Claire where the animals know they are welcome and safe. No natural predatory practices allowed. Like Winston’s Continental Hotel in the John Wick film series.

And while Mittens will allow me to pet him, when I am placing his dish before him, and will rub his face on my feet while waiting for his meals, that’s as far as his cuddling goes. But to be truly happy in life, one must accept what is offered.

Smokey, on the other hand, has always been a true cuddler.

Recently, after we recovered the entire house from our departing grans, and after Blue passed away, Smokey has started appearing in the evenings at the sliding door off the living room onto the back deck. She will meow for our attention until we come and open the sliding glass door. Then we have to return to our seats and wait for Smokey to come in and leap up onto our laps as we sit in our recliners. Since my chair is closest to the open door, I am usually the first landing spot.

Then Smokey starts to knead for a bit, which can often interfere with being able to see the television screen, because she gets right up on you chest, her face right in front of yours.

But since I have always placed the comfort of my fur family before my own, I put up with it. And kneading is a good thing.

Often, after a sufficient amount of kneading me, Smokey will then leap across to Lisa’s recliner and repeat the process.

Then she takes a nap. She prefers it if you are wrapped in a fluffy blanket, but will sink safely by your crotch if nothing better is available.

Now when Smokey first began this evening visitation ritual, she would spend a short time indoors and then disappear out the open door into the night. I would sometimes come across her coming out of the barns out back when I feed Claire and Honey in the early hours. I always assumed she was a barn cat from one of the neighboring properties.

Lately, she has been extending her visits. For example, she has kept Lisa company throughout the entire World Series.

Still, she always left after the TV went off.

Over the past few nights, Smokey has returned immediately after leaving, sometimes before we even get to slide the door closed, so we leave the door open just enough for her to get through – so she doesn’t feel trapped – and then go off to bed. Of course, that leaves the house feeling pretty chilly as the temperatures drop into the 30s at night.

Yesterday, when I came down to the first floor, Smokey was waiting inside. I went down to the basement to go out and feed Claire and Honey, and when I came back, Smokey was meowing at the top of the basement stairs.

So, I left the light on and went to my office.

And shortly after, Smokey joined me.

Now, it’s nice to have new fur family enjoying the interior space of Casa Claire. After all, it provides well-documented health benefits.

https://cats.com/science-proves-owning-a-cat-is-good-for-your-heart

And I am beginning to feel that Smokey realizes that if I am ever to truly make it as a writer, she is going to have to step up and make Casa Claire famous for its cats.

https://www.hemingwayhome.com/our-cats

So Smokey may be my Snow White.

Time will tell.

Well, time waits for no man, and I have Saturday chores waiting for me.

But first I need to let Smokey – who is presently meowing down the hall – out and then cuddle her and Mittens out front. Then my rounds.

You fine, five readers go take care of those weekend errands this morning, and then enjoy the day. Maybe grab an afternoon cuppa and some oatmeal or chocolate chip cookies and reread a Sci-Fi Fantasy series about a guy and his mule.

Oh, and then tell a friend. https://youtu.be/Hyxmj1Yf6Dk

But no matter what else we get up to, let us make today a great one.

5 Responses

  1. Hem’s cats descendants drank out of margarita glasses…. Just sayin😁
    And I had a cat named Smokey when I was little who looked pretty much like your Smokey!

    1. Six degrees of Smokey separation. That explains why Smokey is such a snuggler. All of those ND Winters. Makes NoCo seem balmy.

      1. If nothing happens before then, I may have to jumpstart the pussy magic and start drinking again when I’m 70. Margaritas it is!

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