It’s 6:45 a.m. and I am sitting at the dining room table, finishing off my protein shake and my three pieces of bacon, and reading SOL entries, work emails, and (of course) FB. I have 5 minutes of “play” time after the 2 oldest are being driven to high school by my husband. I get up at 4 a.m. to make sure this happens. I just woke my 7th grader, who is showering (at last, without reminder), and I’m perusing the Internet for what will be the last time until after school–a luxury.
My son’s breakfast of a Belgian (homemade) waffle, a protein drink, and a piece of bacon, steamy and delightful, sits next to me, awaiting his arrival. Lilybug, the oldest of our three cats, sits as cats do, stretched out upon my part of the table, the mail, the beginning of the year information and forms, a few magazines, college announcements, etc., looking, as cats do, uninterested in the comings and goings of our house.
Lilybug almost died last winter break when we went camping and left her and the other cats to our cat sitter. She went on a hunger strike. She would only be hand fed meat, chicken and lamb, on my daughter’s bed (her other spot), much to the utter horror of my daughter, who is vegan. Lilybug is now fat and fluffy and queenly again, so we let her sit wherever. She is generally a polite and dignified cat.
After my five minutes are up, I shut down my laptop and close it. As I slip the laptop into its case, I see Lilybug ever so silently dodge candlesticks, Megablock Halo men (because you know every dining room table needs more things on it), and don’t-forget-to-take-to-school-here-it’s-right-in-front-of-you items and stealthily thieve the bacon on my son’s plate! Lilybug! The cat that wants you to hand feed her! The cat that demands you bring her food to her! The cat that wouldn’t jump on the cat counter to her dish, but wanted to be lifted in her oh-so-dainty way in order for us to redeem ourselves for leaving her to camp in the (yuck!) outdoors (who would do such as thing as actually go outdoors?). Lilybug. Bacon Thief.