Reflections - Buddies

Rills Nuzzling Against Spence

Spence can’t sneak outside. As soon as he steps into his boots at the coat tree by the door, Rills dashes across the great room. Claws out, the cat scrambles up Spence’s jeans and shirt to his shoulders.

With a mix of ouches and chuckles, Spence cradles the cat in his arms. “It’s okay, Rillsie. I’m just going to the hoop house. I’ll be back.”

Rills rubs his head against Spence’s hair and nuzzles against his buddy’s neck. While Spence cuddles Rills, the cat smiles and goes limp.

The cat also employs his climbing technique to check ingredients Spence adds in meal preparation, one reason Rills chose Spence for favorite person. Rills, the runt of the litter, is the hungriest and feistiest of our three tabby brothers. Unlike me, Spence puts up with Rills nipping his fingers. Spence has plenty of other good qualities like taking naps. Rills curls between Spence’s knees. And Rills chooses to attend Spence’s ZOOM meetings in the guest room.

Spence sets his computer on the antique walnut desk in the corner between the single bed by the window and a revolving wooden bookcase. He leans back in an old, not antique, office chair to rest his feet on the bright batik quilt covering the bed.

Rills jumps onto the windowsill to stare at critters, then walks across Spence’s leg bridge to prance, tail up, in front of the computer screen. Meeting participants ooh and aah while Spence proudly says, “That’s Rills,” before placing him on the bed. After several reassuring pets, Rills curls up and naps through the rest of the meeting.

Sometimes Spence closes the door during a ZOOM meeting or phone call so that I can listen to an NPR Politics Podcast while I wash dishes. He totes his computer and papers from the great room to the guest room then commences the elaborate process of inviting the cats. Hand on the door knob he asks, “Are you coming in?” The three cats turn in circles, sit, and stare at Spence’s face. After vacillating in the doorway, they finally vote with their paws by padding inside the room or turning away.

Rills Napping with Spence

On April 22, Spence and I returned from an Earth Day walk collecting litter when Yvonka, his co-volunteer on lead safe issues, called from Cleveland. He hustled to the guest room and closed the door so I could concentrate on writing my response to the twenty-second prompt in the poem-a-day challenge.

My pen scratched images of spring beauties carpeting lawns.

Spence's voice droned in the background.

I stretched, glanced over my shoulder, and gasped.

Rills stood on his hind legs by the guest room door. His front paws reached to either side of the shiny, round, brass door knob. The elongated cat, imitating his chosen person’s actions, pawed the door knob.

Not wanting to disturb the cat’s concentration, I inched down the hall and whispered. “Do you want in with Spence?”

Rills glanced at me then returned his focus to the knob. One paw pulled down. The other pushed up.

The knob wiggled.

Reaching over Rills, I opened the door.

He dropped and sat, staring at the opening. After a while, he walked toward the great room, circled back, then ambled into the guest room.

I closed the door on the buddies. Later, I told Spence about Rills wiggling the door knob.

Spence clasped his hands in front of his chest. “That’s my Rillsie.” Spence picked the cat up and scratched his chin. “I could install handles. That would make it easier for the boy to open the door.”

Handles?

Rills would easily open doors with handles, but we close doors to keep cats in or out—not just for quiet.

Guests wouldn’t appreciate Rills jumping on their bed, walking up their back, and rubbing their heads while they slept.

Even Spence closes the door on Rills. After the cat jumps onto the counter and sticks his nose in Spence’s dinner preparations for the umpteenth time, Spence tosses his buddy into the bathroom and shuts the door. “Time out.”

Rills never whines.

The bathroom door knob wiggles until Spence returns and opens the door. In an apologetic voice Spence says, “You can come out now, Rills.”

Having been standing on his hind paws, the cat drops to all fours and trots out of the bathroom.

Scooping the cat into his arms, Spence hugs Rills. “You're a purring machine, Rillsie.”

The cat snuggles against Spence’s head.

And the saga continues.

Every time Spence steps to the front door, Rills dashes after. The cat reaches up Spence’s jeans and climbs or waits to be hoisted for a hug. Sometimes Rills varies his approach. He crouches on the arm of the hewn log chair by the coat tree for a leap to Spence’s chest. When he spots the poised pouncer, Spence scoops the cat up, saving his chest from the cat’s sharp-claw landing.

Rills lets nothing deter him from the pursuit of his chosen person. I’m guessing that with practice, Rills will even overcome the challenge of round door knobs.

Rills and Spence