Elizabeth D. Marie Fiction Author

Elizabeth D. Marie Fiction Author
Welcome to my blog—a writer's musings on characters, stories, and life

Friday, January 9, 2015

Captain's Toy Box

I hope everyone is having a good start to the New Year. I thought I'd take a break from my writing/author posts to share a little about life with my Captain buddy.

My Bengal-mix cat, picked up as a stray by my cousin in the dead of winter after nearly being run over by a truck at 8 weeks, has an (perhaps) unhealthy obsession with hairbands.

He can sniff out one of my hairbands from a mile away like a well-trained bloodhound and I have too often caught him digging through my shower bag or my suitcase or investigating my bathroom shelf or bedside table in search of yet another hairband. No matter where I have one, even if it's a top shelf out of his reach, he knows and he dedicates all his effort to reaching it. I don't know where he stashes them once he has them, but by this point I am certain he has more hairbands than I do.

He has a few other toys, as all pets must. A "mousy" (also missing wherever the hairbands went) has been his favorite choice since kitten-hood. I could call it by name and he'd go running to fetch it and bring it to me—picking it out of all his other toys. And so, when he was a kitten (He is now just over 1 year old) I took an empty cardboard produce box to hold all his treasures.

Among these: A stuffed turtle (technically a dog toy, but he likes the squeaker inside), a small stuffed horse (tossed it out of a box to put in a "get rid of pile" while sorting one day and Captain grabbed it up and declared it "his" ... so it stayed), a few hairbands he's managed not to lose...yet, a stretchy rubber ball with "tentacles" on it for easy carrying, and a small plastic spoon (yeah, he was quite captivated by that one, believe it or not).

But, alas, his favorite game is "fetch" with a hairband.

"Where's your hairband? Go get your hairband and I'll play with you."

He absolutely lights up. His eyes go wide and he perks up with excitement.

Yes, I sometimes suffer some battle wounds while playing this game… but his joy is worth the occasional blood loss when he forgets and grabs my hand instead of the hairband—and I've neglected to trim his claws. Ouch.

He's always in motion, so it's difficult to get a good photo of his games, but I managed tonight (unfortunately in poor lighting as well) to get a little preview of his antics:

"Here you go, Mom... Time to play fetch"

Now... back to writing.