Reflections on the Eighth Week of Winter – #RaiseTheCat

    The email my son Spencer Charles sent last Sunday triggered this week’s zaniness. He copied a link and wrote “Cavs win: GEORGE!”

    Puzzled, I clicked the link and gawked at photos of seven people raising cats to their chins, onto their shoulders, or above their heads. The 76ers basketball fans cat raising meme started with a tweet from Dennis Grove. His idea for celebrating infrequent Philadelphia wins came from injured player Ben Simmons posting pictures of his cats and from a scene in The Lion King.

    Clicking a few buttons I searched for the latest Cleveland Cavaliers basketball score. They’d beaten the Knicks 111 to 104.

    I set my laptop on the coffee table, grabbed fat cat George from his sprawl before the wood stove, and hoisted him over my head.

    Spence glanced up from his Chromebook, chuckled, then returned to computer key tapping.

    George went limp. Perhaps he thought I picked him up to smear hairball medicine across his nose or to stuff him in the cat cage for a ride to the vet. Neither happened. He glanced at me with questioning eyes.

    “The Cavs won, George.”

    George yawned.

    Monday, Spencer Charles emailed, “Big game against the Wizards tonight! Get ready to #RaiseTheCat!”

    “READY!” I answered, but I fell asleep early. Tuesday morning, before getting out of bed, I checked my Nexus tablet: Cavs 140, Wizards 135. With a squeal of delight, I raced to the wood stove and hoisted George.

    Spence, who’d been computer key tapping for over an hour, looked up, and said, “You and your son are crazy.”

    George turned his head to gaze at the roof supports and loft railings from this new angle.

    I set him down, and he waddled to the food bowl for a snack.

    I didn’t need any more reminders from Spencer Charles.

    Thursday morning after checking the Internet, Cavs 132, Pacers 117, I handed the camera to Spence and grabbed George.

   We often joke that George is in a different time zone because he needs four times as long as his sister Emma to think through novel situations. On this third raising, he figured out my zany behavior. Squirming, he clawed my right forearm leaving a bruise the size of a Cheerio and a bloody scratch the size and shape of the Cheerio hole. Ouch.

    I put George down and hoisted Emma. She extended her claws, merrowed complaints, but didn’t scratch. Of the two, she’s the cat that likes to be held–even a foot and a half above my head apparently.

    Friday morning’s scoreboard recorded a loss: Cavs 109, Thunder 118. “That’s sad,” I said. “No #RaiseTheCat fun today.”

    Lips twitching back a laugh, Spence said, “George said he preferred the loss.”

    This Sunday, just a week from Spencer’s Charles email, I settled in the Adirondack chair, searched basketball scores, and announced, “Cavs 125, Nuggets 109.”

    Spence paused computer key tapping long enough to say, “Uh-oh.”

    After breakfast, I buttoned the cuffs of long flannel sleeves and waited for the cats to munch food, lap water, scratch litter, and settle for morning naps.

    Emma chose the guest room bed.

    George settled by the wood stove fire.

    I picked Emma up and carried her to George. Hoisting her to my left shoulder with my left hand, I grabbed George with my right. I raised him to my right shoulder. Their limp weight prevented me from lifting them higher. Pressing the cats against my ears like puffy white ear muffs, I said, “Look, Spence.”

    He looked. “Spencer Charles would be proud of you.”

    When I set the cats down, they waddled to the food bowl for a reassuring snack.

    So, persistent reader, pause your computer key tapping and join the fun.

    #RaiseTheCat.

    Don’t have a cat? Raise a goldfish. Raise a pillow. Raise your shoe.

    Don’t follow basketball? Celebrate your favorite team, a personal win, a productive day.

    A little zaniness this time of year will raise your spirit.