some things are better with a buddy

There are family stories we tell in just a few words.

Over the years of shared history, dinners and picnics and holidays, a story is told so many times that we can break it down to a shorthand, the whole thing summed up in a morse code of memories.

Mine is,

Kitty cry.

When I was about five, the family cat gave birth to a litter of kittens. In my mother’s closet. I’m sure she thought that was a nice, warm, out-of-the-way place to experience this very personal event, away from small children.

Smart cat.

My brother was two years younger and prone to exploring. However, as it turns out, David was not the biggest danger.

Early one evening, while my mother was distracted with company, I thought it would be a nice time to visit the kittens.

And pick one up.

By the neck.

Everyone in the closet promptly freaked out.

Quite distraught, I walked out to the living room – still carrying the kitten by the neck – saying through my tears, “Mommy! Kitty cry!”

The mother cat was pissed. I could NOT figure out why.

Kitty cry, indeed.

Over time, even that shorthand evolved to include new stories.

Elizabeth calls it, “Kitty suffering.” I think at one point it referred to when her cat was having some sort of first world problem like not being let out to explore the deck in a timely fashion.

Now I think it refers to general malaise. Or specific malaise. I’m not sure really.

But it’s funny every time she says it.

Right now, the dark makes me want to cry.

Kitty suffering.

Watching this video made me feel better. So does doing Sun Salutations. Even when there isn’t any sun. Maybe especially then.

I’ll go do that. While you watch a cute video.

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