Molly the Cat

April 2nd, 2006 at 11:27 pm ]

Little Molly was separated from her mother at a very young age. I doubt she remembers much about those earliest weeks of her life under a trailer somewhere in Southern Indiana. And yet, something seems to remain. It comes out when Molly sits on the black and white fleece blanket that I often lay out on the couch or the bed. Molly approaches this blanket carefully. She touches it with a paw, then proceeds to knead it blissfully for minutes on end. The theory — untestable, of course, after so many years — is that it reminds Molly of her dear mama. Its plaid pattern is not unlike Molly’s own patchwork of dark and light fur, and its softness probably puts her in mind of her mother’s downy belly. These characteristics draw her to the blanket and make her feel comfortable and safe. She turns into a lolling, relaxed sweetheart and one does not want to disturb her dreamy reverie. Unfortunately it inevitably does end, and she goes back to her regular tweaked-out self.

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