WT for the Feline-Americans

My parents came to visit me this summer and became infatuated with my cat. Well, perhaps that's overstating it, but certainly they were approval-seeking in the way one does with animals and very young relatives with whom one wishes to cuddle. Anyhow, I knew I'd lost them when, mere weeks, nay, days after meeting her, they bought her a present for my birthday.

Before you suggest it, no, I don't think it's transference of some longing for grandchildren. On the contrary, I think they've embraced the fact that both of their children are entirely too stubborn to get married as reassurance that they're not old enough to be grandparents. As My (little) Sister the Blond Artist is nearly 26, this is obviously not true; additionally, by the unfortunate sociological standards of Rustingham, New York, where they live, they're plenty old enough to be great-grandparents of a fourth-grader. (They're under 55. It's just that kind of town.)

Cuter than a grandchild, and no diapers!

All that to say that dear Lexi has been invited to the family estate for Christmas. Though we haven't traveled together for any such distance, her temperament has settled such that I don't foresee it being a problem. In preparation, though, I did buy her a collar and ID tag, figuring I'd better give her a little time to get used to wearing them. And with that last idea, I was decidedly on target. Two problems:

1. She's very small, even for Siamese, who run lean. I'm not sure of her exact weight, but it's under seven pounds. I thought I might have to go back to the pet store for a kitten collar, but the one I bought adjusts down just small enough.
   
   
2. She is also, by vehemently held personal conviction, a nudist.

She was not enthusiastic about this collar idea. Not at all. After a great deal of vigorous head-shaking, she tried to back out of it by marching backward around the entire navigable perimeter of the apartment. In the coup de grace, she managed to slide her jaw under the collar, but then couldn't get it any farther off, and so was wearing it as a gag. This was a crisis. I was on the phone with my dad at the time, and had to tell him, "Hold on, the cat is ramming her head against the wall." (I did manage to adjust it down smaller after that, so I think we can avoid that problem in future).

Pictured: Cat, Torture Device.

Fortunately, we've had better luck since then, so I think that in a month we'll be all set to drive across Ohio.