Either that, or they love a warm body near them in a cozy chair. Cookie and Calvin have always had what others might be tempted to call a thorny relationship; when Calvin was young he loved nothing better than to "love" the cat, and sometimes that kind of love still sneaks in under the guise of toddler exuberance. For the most part, though, their kinship has along with Calvin's greater sense of responsibility and tenderness.
Calvin is responsible for feeding Cookie, and it is to him that she directs her plaintive mews first thing in the morning or in the waning light of evening. Calvin is the only one in our family who is sucker enough to turn the bathroom faucet on at a dribble to allow her to drink. Calvin is also the only one who really takes a good nap every day, providing Cookie with a comfy and warm cuddle spot to while away the afternoon.
It works in the other direction, too. Of all the household memebers, Cookie is the only one who doesn't have interrupting chores or work to do, and who will sit still long enough to be the recipient of a well-planned tea party, an acted out play or felt story time, or the reading of a delightfully long book (especially, you see, if she is napping). She is also the only pet mindful of the kid's personal space, whereas the blind little dog and the clumsy big dog tend to step on train tracks and collapse block buildings.
I am allergic to animals, particularly to cats, and there are days here and there when, as much as I love our pets, I find myself wishing them away along with my stuffy nose or itchy eyes, but this kind of companionship is a lesson in itself, and a valuable one at that, and while we'll probably never adopt a cat again, I am thankful for Cookies presence and the friendship she gives, in particular, to that precious little boy.
