Open Writing

My daughter, Maggie first met Graham at a social gathering at her workmate Rachael’s apartment. From what I can gather, there was an immediate rapport between them and it was obvious to everybody present, there was a definite possibility it could lead to a solid, long term relationship.

Graham had lived with Rachael and her flat mate Lilly, for several years and during that time they had become good mates. When Rachael and Lilly decided to move it was difficult to tell him he couldn’t tag along. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to poor old Graham,” lamented Rachael to Maggie one morning over coffee. “I can hardly just kick him out; he’d never survive on his own.”

“Why doesn’t he come and live with me?” suggested Maggie. “We get on well together and he’d be company for me, seeing I live on my own.”

So Graham moved in with Maggie. I met him for the first time not long after and I was surprised to find how old he looked. I really felt she would have been better off with a younger companion. Then when she told me they were already sharing a bed, I must admit I was a little shocked. “Do you think that’s wise?” I asked. “I mean he hasn’t lived with you for very long dear and you don’t know all that much about him. For all you know he might have a disease.”
Maggie was highly indignant and she sprang to his defense immediately. “Graham hasn’t got any diseases – he’s very healthy.”

Not wishing to start an argument I didn’t labour the point. “I simply said, “Well you’re a grown woman. You know what you’re doing,” shrugged, and left it at that.

Maggie had other ideas. She went on and on, extolling Graham’s virtues. “The first night he crawled into bed with me,’’ she giggled, “I told him to get back into his own bed, but he just wouldn’t listen.”

“Maggie,” I interrupted, “I hope this isn’t going to be a case of too much information.”

“No,” she said, “I just want to explain how it is between us. I was so lonely before Graham came to live with me. So you see it’s such a comfort to be able to lie there at night and hear him breathing.’’ She sighed. “I love him Mum, and he loves me.”

If hearing they were sharing a bed was a shock, then I can honestly say I was flabbergasted to hear she was cooking for him. When it comes to finding her way around the kitchen, Maggie is the most undomesticated woman I know. As far as I was concerned she didn’t know an oven from a hotplate. I’d tried teaching her a few culinary skills when she was a teenager and still living at home, but she showed no enthusiasm for it at all, so I gave up.

Knowing she existed on prepackaged meals, when I met her in the supermarket a few weeks later I was surprised to see her with a basket full of such nutritious goodies as the finest cuts of steak, roasting chickens, an array of fish, not to mention a tray each of veal, turkey and salmon. “Are you turning over a new leaf?” I asked.

“Oh, this,” she said, looking a little self conscious and trying to rearrange a magazine over what she had bought, so I couldn’t see the complete array of her shopping. “It’s for Graham. He likes variety in his diet. He just refuses to eat the same meal twice in a row.
He’ll be getting fat,” she added. “Apart from when he walks up to the gate to meet me when I come home from work at night, he spends all day just lazing around the house.”

I said not a word. Itt was obvious Graham could do no wrong.

Then it happened, Graham went out one evening and didn’t come home. Maggie was devastated. After sitting up all night hoping he would come walking through the door, she phoned me. “Graham’s left,” she cried. I tried to comfort her as well as I could but it was to no avail. “I must have been doing something wrong,” she reasoned. “Mum do you think I was doing something wrong?”

“Not at all dear,” I assured her. “I’m sure he’ll realize where he’s well off and come back.”

“Oh, I do hope so. I just can’t live without him,” she wailed. Then more determinedly “I’m not going into work today. I’m going to walk around the streets all day in the hope I catch sight of him.”

As I predicted Graham came waltzing back a few days later, as if he’d never been away. I was sitting over at Maggie’s, trying to comfort her, as I was becoming quite concerned over how hard she was taking his disappearance. “Perhaps I should cook him something, in case he comes back to night. What do you think Mum?”

Handing her another tissue I answered curtly, “You’d be better off cooking yourself something.”

“I can’t eat I’m too worried,” she said as she went to the window and peered out hoping to see Graham, but there was no sight of him.

Deciding to take a tough stand, “Maggie,” I said, “you’ve got to pull yourself together and be prepared that he may not come back.”

The words were no sooner out of my mouth when there was a sound
at the ranch slider door. Maggie went over and pulled the curtain aside. Standing there as bold as brass was Graham. Maggie opened the door and embraced him. “Oh, my darling, darling, Graham,” she crooned, “where have you been? I’ve missed you so much. Please, don’t ever go away again.”

“Maggie, you’re making a fool of yourself,” I hissed. “It’s your house and you really should let him know whose boss.”

“Graham’s the boss,” she said giving him a little kiss.

I turned away in disgust. Then, as I was obviously no longer needed, I made my exit.

Several weeks later, I received a call from Maggie, “Mum would you please do me a favour,” she pleaded.

I braced myself. I’ve learned when Maggie pleads, I’m usually placed in the position of saying yes to something I don’t want to do, or saying no, then spending the next few days feeling bad about it.

“I know you don’t like Graham,” she began, “but I was wondering if you’d keep an eye on him for the next week, as I have to go out of town on business.”

I groaned.

She sensed my hesitancy, “Please Mum, he’ll be lonely here all by himself. You’ll like him once you get to know him better.”

It was against my better judgment to say yes, but I agreed with the proviso I wouldn’t be cooking him special meals.

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“He’ll eat what I put down to him or go without,” I warned.

She hesitated for a moment, “Well, I suppose that’s okay, but be nice to him.”

I’ve been looking after Graham for three days now and I find I don’t mind at all preparing him special meals – he’s really the most affectionate little cat I’ve ever met.”