Meeting Miss Daisy

The race was almost over. Kyle Bush was in second position, which meant he would be making his move soon. It would be an exciting finish, yet my eyelids didn’t care. They drooped. I opened them and blinked. They closed. Even with the volume up loud enough for the neighbors to hear, sleep shut off the sound. Nothing could keep me awake, except the shrill ring of the telephone. I groaned and forced my eyes open.

Fortunately, I had placed the phone within reach. Tami, my only daughter, gets bored when driving, and she was on her way back to my house in Illinois from their former house in Tennessee. They are in the process of relocating to the northern part of the state. This was at least the fourth call of the evening.

I picked up the phone and pushed the button, “Hello.”

“So, n-o-w what are you doing?” Came the familiar query.

“The same thing as five minutes ago,” I said sleepily.

“I thought you were watching Nascar. Were you asleep?” She asked with a slightly accusatory tone.

On the defensive now, as if taking a nap were a cardinal sin, I replied, “No, I was watching the race. Well, maybe listening to the race. Okay, so I dozed off.”

Tami laughed at my confusion, “Can you wake up? I really need to think about something other than this move.”

“I’m awake,” I said. I could hear a quiver in her voice. My little girl was on the verge of tears. Alert now, I sat up. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m a little homesick. You should have seen the house. The painters are finished. Everything looks so neat and clean. Missy misses her friends. I miss mine. What if moving was the wrong decision?”

“Does Chris like his new job?”

“He loves it.”

“You can still keep in touch with your friends. You can email, talk on the phone, and visit. Tennessee isn’t far.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m just feeling a little sad.”

“Once you have a new house and you’re settled, things will get back to normal.”

“I know you’re right. Listen, it’s starting to rain. I better hang up and concentrate on the road. I’ll call you later.”

“Be careful.”

“I will. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Other than a brief call to let me know they arrived at the Toledo House safely, I didn’t hear from Tami again until the following morning.

“So, n-o-w what are you doing?” Daughter asked. This is almost always her opening line when she calls.

“Working on a story,” I said.

“You’ll never guess what came to the door last night.”

“What?”

“You know how sad Missy and I were feeling last night?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we were sitting in the living room, feeling sorry for ourselves, while listening to the storm. We kept hearing a noise out on the front steps.”

“A noise?” I asked worrying the front porch had washed away in the torrential rain.

“When we went outside to investigate, we found a tiny kitten sitting beside the pansies. It was soaking wet, mewing, and trying to climb up the screen.”

“What did you do with it?” I asked, although I already knew the answer. My daughter is one of those kind hearted souls who can’t leave a stray along the side of the road. Her daughter is the same.

“We brought her in and dried her off. We’re going to keep her.”

Surprise, surprise, I thought. And then my immediate concern became the carpet. “I hope you have a litter box set up, outside, on the screened in porch would be good.”

“Well, we don’t yet, but we’re on our way to go get one.”

“Please do not leave the kitten in the house while you’re gone. The odor of cat urine is impossible to get out of carpet.”

“I know. She’s out there right now. You’ll fall in love with her. Wait and see. You’ll want to keep her for yourself.”

“No I won’t,” I stated firmly.

“I know you. You’ll fall in love.”

“Have you named her?”

“Yes. We named her Daisy.”

“Did you choose that name to make sure I wouldn’t toss the little thing out on its ear?” My beloved grandma’s name was Daisy, and I always named my dolls after her. I once had a calico kitten I named Daisy. Tami knew this about me.

Innocence oozed from her reply, “No. We merely liked the name.”

“Yeah, right,” I said sarcastically, letting my daughter know she wasn’t fooling me with her feigned innocence.

“It’s a good name,” I said. “You know, Grandma Daisy may have seen how sad you and Missy were after your trip. Maybe she thought a kitten would be just the thing.”

“It could be,” Daughter agreed. “Whether or not she was sent to us by some unseen entity, Daisy’s arrival did cheer us up. Wait until you see her, you’ll love her too.”

Having a soft spot in my heart for kittens and puppies, I knew it would be love at first sight. But I didn’t want my daughter to think I was a push over, so I said, “We’ll see.”

I always have lunch at the Toledo house. Monday was no different. I picked up a sandwich at Casey’s and drove to the house. A note indicated the gang was off having fun at the Charleston Park, so I opened my sandwich and settled in to watch the noon news. I had licked the last crumb from my finger when I heard an unfamiliar noise. At first, I thought it was a baby crying. I muted the TV and listened. Silly you, it’s the kitten, I thought. I threw away my trash, slugged down a drink of water, and headed for the front porch. It was time to meet Daisy.

I peeked out the front door and there she was, preening in the sunshine. She was all gray with beautiful gray/green eyes. She was tiny, barely weaned. A litter box had been placed against the far wall. Bowls of food and water waited to quench the kitten’s hunger or thirst. She was being well cared for. I opened the door and tip toed outside.

Daisy didn’t jump and run, but she did stop washing her ear to stare at me. I reached down and scooped up the little ball of fur. I tucked her under my chin and listened to her purr. Cute. Yes, I was in love. Even though my screened-in front porch is on the north side of the house, it was hot, so I carried Daisy inside to cool off.

I sat down on the sofa to get to know Daisy. I scratched her ears and she told me how much she liked being scratched and petted. She walked around on my lap looking for a comfy spot to sit down. She sat down. I continued to scratch her ears and talk to her in a soothing voice. I was in the process of thinking how much I would like to have a cat again, when I felt something warm on my leg. It was very warm. My confused mind tried to discern what could have caused so much warmth. It was then the light bulb went off. This wasn’t cat body heat. Yuck! It was cat pee! Yuck! Yuck! Yuck!

I grabbed the kitten and carried her back outside. Instead of drop kicking the beast, I gently placed her on top of the cat litter. I shook my finger while explaining what cat litter should be used for. I swear that kitten was smiling!

After changing clothes to go back to work, I heard the back door bang open. Missy led the pack of grandkids. Mom followed behind. They were all laughing and talking at once. I couldn’t understand a word they said, yet intuitively knew they were excited about my meeting their kitten. They were confused by my frown.

“What’s the matter, Grandma,” Missy finally yelled above the chatter.

“Nothing,” I said.

“Did you meet Daisy? Isn’t she the cutest?” Tami said.

Still frowning, I said, “Yes, she is cute. But, I don’t want that kitten inside until she learns how to use that litter box.”

Without speaking, I held out my yellow-stained, white pants.

“Oh Grandma, what happened to your pants?” Missy asked.

Stoically, I explained, “Your sweet little kitty peed on my leg.”

“Oh,” Missy said.

Instantly, everyone was silent. You could have heard that clichéd pin drop. All four kids stood totally still, unmoving. I could almost see the wheels turning while they assessed the situation. Would Grandma be mad enough to take away their kitty? And then Tami laughed, giving her children permission to taunt their poor grandmother.

Addy pointed toward the pants, “Daisy peed on you!”

I’m sure their laughter could have been heard next door.

“Yes, she did,” I chuckled. Their hilarity was contagious. I gave up and joined in. After all, it was just a pair of pants!