Damn Cat!

Sunday morning, Pop and I loaded his pickup with the accumulation of supplies he bought over the winter months and headed to Egmont. As we drove toward Vancouver, the North Shore mountains appeared in the high clouds - covered in new snow. Snow glistened off the roofs of houses high on the mountainside, making them stand out. When were those houses built? I hadn’t noticed them until the bright snow made them ultra visible.

The ferry was on time and we were in the wheel chair lane so loaded second which is great when you want to get to the cafeteria before the huge lines! I bought lunch for us and we ate in the truck.

Since I changed our plans to leave home Sunday instead of Monday, the Sechelt income tax office was closed. Pop said, “That’s one of the reasons I planned our trip for Monday instead of Sunday”. Ya, well, it’s not ALL about you Pop, I didn’t say, but that’s how I felt. I love Pop dearly and would do just about anything to make his life smooth - at nearly 95 he deserves that I think!!! He likes to make plans and stick with them but he knows Kent and I are absolutely certain to change his plans at the last minute. I always try to accomodate his plans, Kent’s plans, Crystal’s plans and my own, and they don’t always jive, so I’m flexible and ‘work it out’. I explained to him the hours Crystal is working this week together with her school schedule and how it is more important ‘WE’ fit her schedule so she doesn’t have to take time off to give me a ride home, from whatever location I return to.

At this point, I didn’t know if I’d take the bus home, get Pop to drive me to the ferry in Langdale or if I might happen to catch a ride with someone.

We stopped for gas then groceries (again with Pop ‘mentioning’ how if we’d traveled on Monday the liquor store and the bank would have been open). I got out to put the scooter lift down for Pop while he struggled with his seatbelt, the door, his cane and the cat. As opened the door to stand up, the damn cat darted out and ran. I set my purse in the bed of the pickup and went after him. Poor little Sylvester knew immediately he was in a strange place and looked for somewhere to hide. I tried to stay calm and talk to him while Pop stood and watched and worried. I could hear someone in the distance say, ‘Oh, look at the cat!” Sylvester led me around the IGA building, just out of reach, running each time I got close. I lunged for his tail when he was under a table and I didn’t let go. I had to pull him backwards, but got him, scolded him and carried his shivering little body back to the truck.

Pop had his scooter down by this time and he suggested I go get started on the shopping. Okay then, I grabbed a shopping cart and headed in to do my duty. 3 minutes in to the store, I realized I didn’t have my purse. WTF? I’m never that careless to leave it in the vehicle, but I knew I’d locked the truck doors and the parking lot was nearly empty. This was Madeira Park, you know - an area where the only thieves who’d steal anything are the crows. I turned to go back outside and there was Pop right behind me on his scooter with my purse in his basket. He’d noticed it in the back of the pickup and brought it to me. I was amazed! Nope, life wasn’t all about him at all - he’d saved my bacon when I least expected it. Thanks Pop!

25 minutes and we were ‘home’. I unlocked the gate, let Sylvester out of the truck, with Pop saying, “I wouldn’t have let him out until we got up to the house”. Cats are smart - heck, I think he’d have found his way to Pop’s all the way from Madeira Park if I’d left him… Actually, I wouldn’t have left him. I’d have waited him out and told Pop that which. Anyway… Sylvester beat us to the door of the house.

I unpacked the truck while Pop unloaded his scooter and went to the service building to turn on the water. Everything looked great around the house - inside and out. The grass is growing and will need cutting soon. The rhodos and lilacs are budding, the foxgloves I planted last year are growing like weeds and of course the weeds are growing fastest of all.

Pop and I worked for an hour unpacking and putting away. Pop makes good use of the scooter and has a system for unloading. He lifts whatever bags or boxes he can handle onto the scooter bed and rides the stuff to the porch or the picnic table and unloads. At 95 minus 2 months, he more than pulls his weight! Finally we had most of his goods put away and he said, “Well, I think we’ll be ready for a drink in another hour”. I said, “I don’t think I’m waiting another hour!”

I threw a yam in the oven to bake and Pop fried us a T-bone steak. By 8 o’clock I was ready for bed, thinking I’d read for an hour or so. I hit the pillow and my lights went out - for 12 hours. I woke 4 or 5 times through the night, as is usual for me, but it felt good to be back in Egmont!