Beauty, No Beast

His name is Carmel. Easier to say than the candy-color of his beautiful coat. I can’t say whether he will become the star of a children’s book as did his predecessor, Leonardo da Cat. Can’t say if he would have survived the wilds of my 9th Street backyard and neighborhood, either,  because he’s back. Glory be! His sneaking out the atrium when the “door of opportunity” cracked, made for a dark hour of tense reflection. But true to his feline instinct, he sneaked right back in when he had endured enough of cold and wet grass. Hopefully we–and he–learned a lesson: It’s better to reflect on all that’s good and easily had than to wander aimlessly without support. With luck and dilligence, he won’t get a repeat oppportunity.
  

Great-granddaughter, Lucy, at fifteen months recently discovered that little fingers in Carmel’s coat feel even better than the fuzzies in her board book about baby pets. Hands-on learning even trumps books.

                          Carmel reflects: MY FACE–MY WINDOW!

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