Maybe the Cat, photo bomber, mole slayer (that’s a good thing), bird catcher (not a good thing), and my dog’s best buddy. Oh yeah, and she’s the coolest cat ever.
Several years ago, my son, Adam called from Alabama. He was/is allergic to cats, but his neighbor had saved a kitten that had used up several of her nine lives in a fight with a wild animal. The kitten survived, but the neighbor couldn’t keep the kitty and since Adam was allergic, the next best thing was to unload it on Grandy/Mom. Adam would call and the kids would jump on the phone, “Grandy, we want to bring you this pretty black kitten!” Forget that I already had a cat that had always made it perfectly clear that she wanted to remain an only child.
“Well, maybe,” I replied on several occasions whenever they called to twist my arm again. Hence, the name, Maybe. I wanted to name her ‘Bama after the Great State of Alabama, but no, they insisted I call her Maybe. So I did.
Maybe moved in and the moles moved out. She is a veracious hunter. I often watch her when I lay in my hammock. The world is hers and anything moving that is smaller than her had better watch out. She’s a feline all the way. Stalks, calculates, and just plain chases things for kicks and giggles.
Maybe also has her own bedroom. Clarke thinks it’s his room, but Maybe disagrees. She gets really upset when someone closes the door and she can’t get in. Nobody wants to live with an upset Maybe. Something gets broken when that happens. No kidding.
Maybe has never forgotten her Alabama roots. She HATES snow and barely tolerates cold temperatures. It turns out Maybe and I have a lot in common when it comes to our disdain for cold temps.
So, where am I going with this? Listen to your grandkids. They know what’s best for you.