Old Tricks, New Tricks

After ten years of eating nothing but dry food, my cat learned he likes tuna. I commented, “Old cats can learn new tricks.” Can old people learn things, too?

This morning Charlie showed me again how stubborn he can be. He always refuses to come when I call, no matter how persuasive I try to be with, “Here kitty, kitty” or an angry, “Come here, you dumb cat!”

On Sunday mornings I like to pick up breakfast in the dining room and return to my third floor apartment in time to watch CBS Sunday Morning. This morning I was a little late. As I hurried out the door, Charlie slipped out under my feet. I called, “Come back here.” He walked away. I called again, “Come back here, Charlie!” He walked leisurely along the balcony. Annoyed, I slammed the door and briskly walked past him. As the elevator door shut, I left a cat looking surprised outside on the balcony carpet.

After picking up my bagel and cream cheese, I walked into the courtyard. High above on the third floor balcony, I heard the plaintive crying of a cat. Charlie wanted me! When I stepped off the elevator he was waiting outside the apartment.

He ran inside as soon as I opened the door. Will he come back in the next time I call? Probably not. After all, he is just a dumb cat.

I think he is a Republican.

Republicans put up silly objections to everything the Democrats propose. Those votes against Sotomayer, one of the most qualified judges ever appointed to the Supreme Court. That nonsense about “death panels.” And now the opposition to “government-run insurance” – when every old person knows Medicare is better than any private insurance program.

I’ve been writing to Congress again. My senators are John Cornyn and Kay Bailey Hutchison. My congressman is Sam Johnson, who, like John McCain, was a POW in Vietnam and was rewarded with a seat in Congress where he sits there and votes Republican without doing any initiatives on his own.

I doubt they read my letters. I can’t help myself. I keep writing, even if no one listens. Just like writing this blog.

Charlie does not answer me either. But he sits close to me and purrs. That’s comforting.