a little conversation

Last week I was dealing with the garbage can and composting and the alley cat that lives in our neighborhood came into our neighbor's backyard. We think she belongs to the people across the alley. She's white and very well taken care of although leery of John and I. Not so much leery of Guthrie. In fact she loves Gus. She'll come through the hole in our fence and immediately roll on her back so Guthrie can give her a belly rub. So white meow - a little side note, white was one of the first colors Guthrie could say and I would almost be willing to say that it's her favorite color. She hearts semi-trucks. A lot. Massive amounts of white that they are. -- so, white meow comes into the neighbor's backyard last week and Guthrie's just beside herself with excitement. A little irritated that she's on the other side of the chain link fence and so out of reach, but she stomps barefoot over to the squishy part of the yard so she can get as close as possible.

I continue doing my stuff. Aerating the compost and such and as I come back over to where I can see and hear Guthrie I get to hear their conversation. Guthrie is telling white meow about all the cats in her life. First it's Wriwee (O'Riley) and black meow (can't say Zoe yet or anything like it so she's relegated to black meow). I hear: blah, blah, blah, home, blah, blah, blah, nigh-night, blah, blah, blah Wriwee. I can only assume she's telling white meow a thrilling story of Riley and Zoe's lives as indoor cats. White cat is obviously enthralled. She's sitting stock still just staring at Guthrie. Sometimes her tail drifts around. Sometimes she gnaws on the branch next to her.

Then I hear: Febee died. Over and over for at least a minute. When that has apparently gotten through to everyone, she adds the details. Febee, Dietah (Gramma), home. No home. Dietah *sad noise* no happy. Febee died. Dietah happy now.

It was really really cool.

After a bit Guthrie turns around and runs back inside. White meow takes this as a sign the conversation is over and heads out of the yard. In fact the conversation was not over. Guthrie wanted to show white meow her Febee shoes. Last fall, in an attempt to get Gus to wear some slippers my mom told her the slipper she got her were from Febee. They've been good to have as I've discovered having a tangible reminder of Febee has helped Guthrie process Febee's death.

In the end, Gus was fairly upset that white meow hadn't followed directions and waited for the revealing of the Febee shoes. We haven't seen white meow since, but I'm wondering if next time she shows up she'll get to see the shoes.

This is what I love about being the parent of a two year old. Love, love, love. It's such an honor.