Cat nap game

At last, we see green again. Mittens and Cuddles resume excursions around the backyard where the earth isn’t too soggy for their paws.

They sniff, sniff, sniff.

Then, on a sunny day, they lay in the bright patch on the kitchen floor by the south sliding door and sunbathe.

Nap. Nap. Nap. Soak up serotonin.

It’s enough to covet while I clean their litter and dig into other chores. Furthermore, my study window, to my left where I write, faces north. Not one beam of sunshine the day long. No serotonin to benefit my mood.

Thus, I joined the girls the sunny day past when they sunbathed in the patch on the kitchen floor. I sank into the chicken chair close by, and as the cats, turned my face to the sun.

They didn’t stir or wake, jump up on my lap and begin kneading my stomach as usual.

In such bliss I even forgot chocolate. The compelling book waiting beside my reading chair. My memoir in progress.

The cats didn’t flick an ear, wake to clean the sleep from their eyes. Side by side they slept.

Fifteen minutes later, I sneaked away from our sunny spot unnoticed and returned to my desk.

Four hours later, wrung out by words, I laid down on the sofa at 4:00 p.m. for another 20-minute rest.

Minutes later, I felt cat paws commence to knead my belly. I opened my blue eyes to Mitty’s bluer eyes looking into mine, intent on preparing her soft bed. She eventually laid down and slept.

The phone rang and woke me at 4:15. “Hello, Iris speaking.”

“Are you busy, Iris?” asked the new friend who arranged our transportation for the Million Women March, October 12, 2024.

“Nope, I was just napping on the sofa with my cat, Mitty.”

“Oh, I won’t keep you then.”

“Well, my boss says get back to work, so no more cat nap.”

She laughed. “That’s cute. I just drove by your road again on the way home and had to give you a call to set a date for lunch.”

We zeroed in on March 14, Friday, at my house.

I’ve since recalled my mother-in-law, the first person to use the term “cat nap” in my presence. Whenever my husband and our girls visited his family in Grand Rapids, sometime within the weekend, Grandma Rosie announced, “Time for a cat nap.”

She aimed for the living room sofa, laid down, and pretended to sleep. She’d wriggle her feet, peek open her eyes to see if her granddaughters followed her.

“Grandma’s taking a cat nap,” she’d say again.

Dear Reader, eventually, Grandma Rosie’s granddaughters left her to doze and joined Grandpa in the family room where he snored in his recliner.

Considering I never saw my mother nap on a sofa, I thought Grandma Rosie’s cat nap game quite original.

Furthermore, now in my seventies, at last, I’m learning the value and purpose of my mother-in-law’s ritual of an afternoon snooze.

And the litteral (oops), literal meaning of the term “cat nap”.

Contact Iris at irisfarmletters@gmail.com