Playground Rules - Prince

My volunteer day is extra busy, because I start out meeting a friend and her two young nephews at a nearby playground. She alone is in charge of the boys all day (I know all the mommy-bloggers would think what’s the big deal, but it is a big deal if you’re not used to kids). She’s fine but I’m there to help. They’re both energetic, and the younger one is big for his age of two – he looks capable but needs near constant watching.

This action packed 90 minutes gives me new appreciation for the people who bring kids to visit the animals at Maddie’s. The boys are go go go, just barely kept amused by all the activities and other kids at the park, and continually on the lookout for something new and exciting. Little friendships and alliances form and fade. My friend worries that the boys will hurt themselves or other, smaller children, and I try to convince her that these occasional spats and tumbles are the nature of children.

At the relative calm of Maddie’s, I check and see that both sets of kittens I showed last week are gone, as is Big Boy. But several of the longer term cats are still here, unfortunately. Fewer people around than last week. Vacation time, mid summer. The first people I help, an older, sort of hipster tanned California couple, tell me they’re just checking things out, that they can’t adopt yet because they’re going on vacation. In fact, they are hesitant to even visit the cat they’re drawn to, afraid of getting too attached.

They return after a bit and visit sweet Shanti anyway. She’s a soft, shy dill calico who has been here since June. They don’t stay long, but they take down her name and info; danger of falling in love is imminent.

So I go to visit my friend Marco, who once again has new roommates. They’re all three attention hogs, "personal assistants," the sorts of cats who want to be with people constantly. Curly is a perky and playful brown tabby with an odd backwards curling tail. And Prince, he’s charming – a thin, long limbed orange tabby with huge green eyes. He’s slithers up, initially a bit afraid, but leans next to me, gazing up adoringly.

None of these guys wants the others to get the most attention. There’s a kind of similar dynamic to the playground, actually, with a few hisses and paw swipes to establish territory and dominance. Now I’m the one who worries, will they hurt each other? But I tell myself they’ll be fine, they’re just working things out.

Prince won’t sit on my lap on his own, but when I pull him there, he crouches slowly, then curls his paws up and starts up a barely audible purr. Marco accepts my other hand petting his head, and Curly happily bats a toy. Order established, for now.