It has been raining most of the night and is still raining this morning. It is overcast with no sign of sun. I sit here and watch the the rain drip off the roof from my seat on the couch.
Ivy is sitting at the door waiting for the sparrows to descend on the bushes just beyond the small porch. This is where the sparrows flit and fly and chatter much of the day.
I have been reading “Listen To The Marriage” at night. The entire book is a ten month period of marital counseling sessions for a couple, Gretchen and Steve, in San Francisco.
They are separated. The have two young children and very demanding jobs.
It is about listening, really listening, to one another. Hearing what the other person is saying, not what you think they mean or what you want to hear.
This couple is in crisis and the counselor tries to get them to see each other again as the person they once saw.
This book is an exploration of marriage and busy couples trying to make life work.
I see Ivy now coming down the hall toward the living room with a folded paper towel in her mouth.
Where on earth did she find that? Oh, Ivy is quite the sleuth.
She will of course not stop until she’s “killed it”, torn it to shreds. And that’s exactly what she sets about doing.
Charlie and I sit here on the couch, our theater seats where we watch Ivy’s daily performances. She pounces on it mercilessly.
Oh no, she’s managed to find another one. I must have had two folded up together somewhere. She’s dragging it up the pet steps to the couch.
Ivy can sense with precision something she isn’t supposed to have.
She unrolls the toilet paper. Drags my things under the bed where the only way I can get them out is to get my yardstick and swipe at it.
She is under every stick of furniture she can fit her head and body into. Chasing at dust bunnies and bits of this and that that has ended up underneath.
I once thought my home was fairly clean until Ivy came to live here. She has shed light on everything I’ve missed by bringing it out to show me.
Charlie can’t figure out why she is so fascinated by whatever is under there. It obviously never occurred to him to paw it out.
She tires of the paper towel and goes racing toward the living room window. I think she’s settling in to watch what’s outdoors.
But then it’s as though the thought has struck her that the paper towel might not be finally and truly dead.
She makes a few leaps and is on it again, ripping even more ferociously at the bits on the floor.
Oh, what I’d give to know what is going on in Ivy’s head.
She seems to decide that she’s finished her task.
Now she’s on the pet bed, eyes closed, sleeping. She can change from one thing to another with the greatest of ease.
One minute her ears are bent and she’s racing from one room to the next.
And then she’s sleeping. Looking oh so innocent.
She stretches out her body and rolls to her back. She likes to sleep this way for some reason.
And all is fine in the world until she wakes up with another big spurt of energy looking for something to get into.
I never know what I’ll find when I come home. But at least Charlie is not as nervous as he was when I go out. I’m not having to give him a Composure pill. I’ve slacked off on that.
I wonder what they do when I’m gone?
When I open the door neither one of them is ever in the living room. They come down the hall, first Charlie and then Ivy, from wherever they’ve been. I imagine Charlie has been sleeping on my bed.
I can’t begin to guess what Ivy was doing.
In about 10 minutes I will leave to meet Kelly at the animal rescue thrift shop, where I will get the papers finalized for adopting Ivy.
Such a short time Ivy has been in our lives, and yet, she has brought new life into this place. She has injected fun into the atmosphere with her crazy stunts and antics.
And Charlie and I sit here, spellbound in our theater seats on the couch, and watch her dance through the air, fly like a bird, pounce like a lion.
It has been a wild but fun 2 weeks with this silly kitten. And I wouldn’t trade them for the world.