An Almost Empty Nest

/ Jeff Cann

The nest is empty. The boy lives downtown, a block from the firehouse where he volunteers. When a call comes out, via cell phone now rather than scanner, he can report in mere minutes, ready to save a home or a life. The girl moved to Wyoming, fighting fires of her own. Forests, not structures, and when no fires burn nearby, she works to fireproof Grand Teton National Park.

Susan and I live alone in our now-too-big house with our cat. We named him for the drummer of a favorite band who died the day the cat joined our lives. In cat years, he is now as old as me. And like me, he still has a playful streak, but prefers to laze around and make himself comfortable on whatever soft surface is nearby.

At bedtime, after Susan and I complete our pre-lights-out banter, the cat jumps on the bed, more a clawing climb than a clean hop for the past year or so, and settles down between our pillows. I stroke his chest for a minute before he pins my hand to the bed with his paw and lies on top of it. We sleep like this for the first few hours of the night.

When nature calls, as it invariably does for a sixty-three year old man, I return to bed and flip to my other side, much like I’m a hamburger on a grill, and I want to cook evenly. While I enter the twilight between reality and dreams, I feel the cat gingerly walk across my pillow towards the side table that holds my alarm clock, hearing aids, and glasses while I sleep. I open an eye just to make sure, and yes, he sits on the table staring down at me, looking for all the world like a buzzard awaiting the death knell of his prey.

I close my eye and drop off to sleep knowing that in a matter of minutes, he will reach out and poke my cheek with his paw. This used to piss me off until I realized that every time I find him somewhere in my house, curled and sound asleep, I jam my nose into his neck and give him a kiss. He takes it in stride, sometimes dropping immediately back to sleep, and sometimes using it as a cue to begin an elaborate bath, licking each part of his body over the next forty-five minutes.

Susan shakes her head at the two of us, thinking we’re a couple of morons. She has her own bonding sessions that usually include brushes and combs, stringy cat toys, or running faucets to drink from. But in bed he’s all mine, including when he begins mewing hours before dawn. Remarkably I’m the only one who hears this, even though my hearing aids are safely stowed and charging overnight. Otherwise, Susan can hear a whisper from the next room.

Eventually, I get out of bed, lock the cat out of the bedroom. When I return to bed, I flip over once more, in the position I started the night, which is probably all the cat really wanted in the first place.

Image: Tommy staring up at an owl in a branch, who in turn is staring down at him.

15 thoughts on “An Almost Empty Nest”

  4. Our 15-year-old kitty (76 in human years) sleeps with me at night. There is no question of turfing her out and she happily rearranges herself to accommodate my nightly comings and goings, moving position around the bed and under the covers. I often wake up with her head on the pillow beside me.

    A friend of ours moved back to the US after 20+ years in Sydney, and chose Jackson (he works remotely). He posts lots of photos of the Tetons, various lakes and hikes he does around the area. He even managed to make the winters look agreeable.

    Congrats on the 2nd draft. You’re way in front of me.

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    • The Grand Tetons are one of the most beautiful places in America. My daughter lives in the park and she has the most amazing photos right from her front door. Her work season is April to November so she hasn’t spent a winter there, But I know it’s a 4 season vacation destination so it must be livable in the winter.

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      • Our lives are very routine (stretch, exercise, speech therapy, ADLs) which is sort of comforting but not exciting.
        This week we have a Neurologist appointment and I hope a few tweaks are possible to keep the small improvements going.
        A few days away (at an autoclub country resort that we can get to in a MaxiTaxi) in Spring should give our spirits a boost. It’ll certainly boost the waist line.
        I noticed you have completed the second draft of your novel. Great.
        Zsor-zsor is ready for a very short walk using her walking stick (which requires me to be Catcher) so cheers for now.
        All the best to you and yours.
        DD

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  6. laughing out loud at this line, Jeff: “he sits on the table staring down at me, looking for all the world like a buzzard awaiting the death knell of his prey” . . . I shall now get to remember it whenever I have a similar experience, which is most mornings : )

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