We had company at the Lodge the other night. A very nice group of very down-to-earth, no-nonsense, very practical people came over for a meeting. We didn't know any of them, which was nice since it meant an opportunity to make some new friends.
Wanting to make a wholehearted effort to welcome our guests, I worked hard to make things nice. Part of what makes the Lodge the gracious, loving home that it is are all the little extras. So candles were lit, soft music was playing, fresh linens were hung, and yummy morsels were put out for partaking of. Little details that were all geared to make our guests feel special.
My quirky sixteen year old son who tries to inject humor into every situation helpfully added some detailing of his own when I wasn't looking.
He tied the fattest, flounciest, most absurd bow around our fluffy black cat Smudge's neck. It wasn't a sweet, cute, tiny cat bow. It was an overblown, ridiculous parody of a bow. But this suited Smudge just fine since she has a very high opinion of her resident Princess Cat status. The bigger, the better. She's been looking for her crown ever since we got her and refuses to believe that she was a Humane Society Special. Her version is that she was feline royalty who was swapped at birth with some poor carpenter's cat.
I snickered when I saw it but mentioned that I wanted him to be sure to take it off her before they all got here because these were the kind of people who wouldn't think it was cute, they would just think I was nuts. Then I forgot all about it in the rush of getting ready.
It wasn't until after everyone had left that evening that I saw Smudge again. She still had the bow on, and I gasped and turned to my son. "I thought I told you to take that off! Don't tell me anyone saw that!"
A wide smile and an impish gleam in his eye was my only answer.
Horrified, I demanded an explanation.
He told me that the meeting was deep into conversation when she chose that very moment to prance her way smack dab through the living room, flicking her tail the way she does, a cat with true attitude. All conversation came to a grinding halt for a full minute as she slowly wove her way through the room, conscious that every eye was upon her and receiving their full attention as her due.
Giggling uncontrollably from his perch above on the balcony, my son watched her progress. All heads turned to watch her traipse across the room and it was only upon her sashaying off into the sunset and a lengthy pregnant pause that conversation resumed as if nothing unusual had happened.
I, of course, was in the kitchen seeing to the necessities and completely oblivious.
I asked him if he at least explained to everyone that it was a joke.
He said that that would have ruined the fun.
He also says that they will all be calling me the Crazy Cat Lady.
He's probably right.
Or at least, he maybe would be, if I hadn't told all our guests when they got here to watch out for my son's fluffy black cat that he adored and sometimes dressed up, just for fun.
Motto of the day: Don't mess with your mother.