Visiters

Next door neighbor Ods* stopped by with little Pen. Dylan had tuned her guitar for her, and it's been sitting in the music room for a week. This is fine, we weren't in any rush, whenever works. Pen wandered and picked up items, Ods anxiously following and worrying. I shrugged and chuckled. Moby let her visit, politely sniffed her, then took to the top of the tree. Eleanor just ran, which is exactly what she does with us, then circles back around to be chased again.

Dylan gave tuning pointers, as I herded Pen away from the many hazards for a just-over-one-year-old in our cat and adult set-up. Too much stuff laying about. We have a lot of lotion containers, dry skin issues in winter. She found many of them, picked them up, carried them around. Also the red rubber balls I salvage from the slings at work. Eleanor likes them, and we throw them back and forth occasionally. Pen had one in each hand.



She'd noticed the face. I asked her "May I pick you up?" I felt her bounce up a little, took that as a yes, and held her so she could stroke the nose. A slight squirm, and I put her down. She was calm, intensely curious, thinking through everything.

I think I can see what the deal is with grandmothers. Ods takes it all very seriously, as she should, although a notch down might make it easier on her. And it's all very personal for her. For me, it's a friendship with a different species. I see Pen as perfectly normal for her age. And I'm always trying to see it from her perspective. As we do for our cats. Entering their reality and listening with all senses. Politely formal, non-intrusive protecting, accepting of their autonomy.

I also do this for an hour, every once in a while, so all I have to be is an attentive amateur. Not a pro. What do I know? I treat her like a cat, or a dog, which - is to say kindly, gently and without judgement.

Our Young Visiters are always welcome.


Eleanor with catnip.

"This is nice."


"Ok, now it's kicking in..."






*No meaning, a partial anagram of her name.