Aristocat Living

Dear  Friends, it’s happened at long last. I am in love! Oh, he is a handome one. Dare I speak his name?  It’s Merlin. He is dashing and bold, with a pronounced forehead and a mane that goes on for days.  And it would be perfect except for one small detail. He is a commoner. Oh the pity, the heartbreak. You see, as a pure bred Maine Coon of the House of Berting, I am prohibited from marrying a common street cat.

Now I know some of you modern cats will not understand. This is America. One may marry whoever or whatever they want. One may even decide not to marry. While it is true that some Royals have dalliances, could you imagine I would stoop so low?

No, my love for Merlin will be as the Chivilric Love of olden days. He will write me poems to make me swoon and I shall send him tokens of my undying esteem and affection.

Merlin, my love, you will come to understand that I musn’t abandon my duty. Our love will be pure and chaste. One day, you will decide to run off with one of your own kind and I shall be brokenhearted. Such is the burden of Royalty.

Oh, I can not write anymore. I am overcome with feeling.

Welcome dear friends. I hope you are having a joyous holiday season. Here at Quaint Cottage we have been laid low by a most unfortunate stomach ailment. For weeks, we were busy getting the cottage ready for the holidays.  Such sweeping and cleaning and decorating and baking. Well, you can imagine how exhausted I was supervising it all. The children were expected on Christmas Eve and I know Andi and Gus were all atwitter with anticipation. Miguel was happily awaiting his person and I knew I’d get a lot of extra attention from the older one. (Sigh) I so appreciate extra staff. It reminds my of the good old days at Acorn Manor.

The cottage was stuffed to the rafters with all kinds of food, cookies, chocolate, exotic teas and coffees. We were looking forward to unbridled feasts of gluttony, when Andi’s older child turned a peculiar shade of green.

“I’m going to hurl,” she announced while fleeing towards the bathroom. Then after the deed was done, she turned blue and started shivering.

“I’m freezing,” she wailed as her temerature climbed.

I knew my duty. I jumped on the bed to watch over her as she moaned and tossed and turned through the night. Of course, Andi and Gus were most helpful, fetching extra blankets, a heating pad, Ginger ale and acetomenifen.

But, in the end, it was my skilled nursing that pulled her through. While the rest of the family ate a lovely Christmas Dinner and sang songs below, I stayed with my charge. I purred her to sleep, felt her feverish brow with my paw and sent prayers to the Good Spirits above to help her heal.

When morning came she was weak but much better. The fever was down and her color had returned to normal.

To my fellow felines, I exhort you not to disregard your nursing skills. Watch over your charges so that they may take care of you in your old age.

Happy Holidays.