By: Molly MacDonald
For those of you who read my last column, you’ll remember I sadly announced that Christopher Robin, my beloved stray cat whom I have been feeding for several years, had disappeared. Well – huzzah – I am sad no more. The day after I sent that column to the paper, who should appear on the porch expecting his usual repast but Christopher Robin. He had been AWOL for almost two months, and although I had never given up hope, I was trying to reconcile myself to the possibility of never seeing him again.
He was none the worse for wear, so obviously he had found food elsewhere. He hasn’t told me where he was, but now he presents himself three times a day for a meal. In between his visits, the other three cats I mentioned before – Fiona, Goldilocks and The Phantom, have continued to show up and help themselves either to Christopher Robin’s left-overs or to a bowl of fresh food that I put out because I don’t want them to go hungry. I think I’ll buy some stock in the company that makes the cat food I get – I’m probably boosting their profits enormously.
For beggars, all four of them are pretty picky. They all carefully eat around the dry kibble and eat only the canned food. Even when I mix the dry stuff in with the canned, they manage to avoid the kibble while cleaning up on the canned food. Reminds me of how, as a kid, I would carefully pick out the raisins in all cookies, muffins and any other concoction which they had pushed their way into. Okay, in the interests of truth in journalism, I didn’t do that only as a kid – I just try to be more subtle about it now that I’m a grown-up.
While I was spending much of my time feeding the cats, my sister Sheila was spending her time feeding me. She came from her Vermont home for a visit over Easter and immediately donned an apron and created some delicious concoctions for our dining pleasure. Okay, again in the interests of truth in journalism, I didn’t have any aprons for her to wear but I had an old sweatshirt that protected her blouses.
I wonder if very many people still wear aprons. My mother and both my grandmothers never set foot in their kitchens without one. When I couldn’t think of a birthday or Christmas gift for Mother, I’d always get her an apron. I guess I didn’t have much of an imagination.
I never have had an apron. Of course, some would say that’s because I never cook, but that’s just mean. I do cook. Sometimes. Even when I was preparing meals for the seven in our family, I never had an apron. Maybe that’s why I have never been a very good cook. Maybe there’s some magic in aprons that turns so-so cooks into master chefs. I suppose I could buy myself an apron and see what happens. If aprons are even sold anymore. They probably aren’t.
Let’s go with that.
