Madonna

I pause at the corner of 32^nd and Esmond to let a fat blue SUV pass, a masked driver at the helm. 
Why do people wear their masks in the car while driving? Is the virus floating around in their 
vehicle? Does it come in through the open windows from the air?      
It baffles me. But so much baffles me nowadays.

            Except for cats.

            I see Liv in front of her cute house, bending in her garden, puttering around. Pull my ladybug mask up over my face to show her. “Hey, Liv!” I call out, walking toward her, “What do you think? I’ve gotten lots of compliments on your ladybug mask!”

            “I’m so glad,” she chuckles. “Let me know if you need anymore. I’ve still got tons of fabric scraps.”

            “Will do,” I grin, but she can’t see it behind the mask. This is another strange thing about the current requirement to wear masks when out and about—you can’t see people’s faces. You can see their eyes. And, yes, the eyes can say a lot, but it’s strange. To hear only the muffled mumblings and not be able to see the cavity from which these mumbles originate.

            “MEEEOOOOW Meeowww! Meeeoooow!” A cobby tabby has joined us. She’s got a lot to say. And, she’s not wearing a mask.  So I can hear her clearly.

            “Why, hello!” I stoop down to pet her, glancing up at Liv, “Is it okay to pat her?”

            “Pssshaw!” Liv grins; she’s not wearing a mask. Her garden must not carry the virus.

            I stroke the tabby’s plush stripes. “What’s her name?”

            “Madonna.”            

            “Oh, that’s a good name. Hi, Madonna.”

            “Yes, she was a Teenage Mother,” Liv adds, laughing. “I got her off an ad in Nextdoor. Someone had abandoned her in an empty house. The owners had evidently left her. I got my hands into the fray, and before I knew it, instead of finding the owners, I had her back home with me. She was a young cat, but that didn’t keep her from catting around.”

            I laugh, continuing to stroke the very friendly Madonna.

            “She had 3 kittens, two of which I was able to adopt out, but the 3^rd one, can you see him in the window?”
            I glance up toward her front window, barely spying a gray tuxedo at the screen peering out. “Oh, yeah, I see him.”

            “He was just too shy. I knew that he would have issues if someone took him. So, I just kept him.”

            “What’s his name? Jesus?”

            She laughs, “No, no, he’s Felix.”

            “Perfect! Hi, Felix!” I call out to Felix but can’t see if he responds. Meanwhile, Madonna has lunged away from me, tearing after a squirrel that races up a tree. Madonna makes it halfway up and then falls back. Undaunted, she tried again. But the squirrel’s gone. Way up in the tippy-top of the pretty strawberry tree.

            Madonna falls back down after a last attempt. Promptly sits down on the sidewalk and starts to lick her butt. She has better things to do than mess with a stupid squirrel!

            Liv and I both laugh. “She’s a mighty huntress,” Liv proclaims. “But not every mission is a success.”

            “Yes, that’s the way of the world, isn’t it?”
            “Indeed,” Liv nods, a lot going on in her head I can tell. Yet she’s quiet. Not voicing whatever she may be thinking. I don’t know her well. We’ve been swimming at the Y together for years, so she’s one of my ‘swimmer friends’, but these friends do take time to get to know. And Liv is no exception.

            Madonna finishes her butt and trots over to me for more pets. I bend down to give her a final pat, “You are a mighty good tabby huntress,” I tell her. “I suppose this is because you were a teenage mother.”

            “That’s it exactly!” Liv exclaims. “I’m sure she had to hunt for food when she was locked up in that house, which I’m sure, was full of rats and mice and other vermin. She was eating for 4 so she had to hunt.”

            I nod, rising to continue my walk before the sun got too high. “Well, I better keep walking.”

            “Yes, you must.” Liv turns back to her garden, yanking at a tall filmy green stalk. Madonna goes back to sit at her side, supervising the work, before another squirrel scurries past and she is off.