Forgetting

I do the same thing every morning. If it’s a shower day, I shower. Dress. Take Bondi outside to do her “bidness,” wipe her little cootchie (or I’ll get a wet spot on my shirt!), put her in her kennel where she’ll sleep for a few more hours.

Before Bondi got hurt, and couldn't walk, I didn’t do that part. Nonetheless, it has worked its way into my routine.

I’ll turn on the TV in the kitchen for the morning news. Sometimes I listen, sometimes it’s just on.

Then it’s on to the cats. If Spitfire’s in the house, he’ll loudly demand his breakfast — RIGHT! NOW! I show him who’s boss! I don’t hurry. I just go about my routine. I put a little water in the microwave to warm. I retrieve the cat food dishes from the floor, and this part can be a little tricky. Loudmouth is sitting on the very edge of his feeding station (a butcher block that stands at the end of the counter) and besides his incessant demanding, he’ll swipe at me if I get too close.

I set the dishes at the end of the counter, on the other side of the microwave. Then I go for Sugar’s food dish.

Sugar’s an old gal. She’s perfectly happy to sleep the days away in her condo and have a servant bring her food, water, and carry away her litter.

Raini is paying close attention to me at this point. Sugar never eats all of her food and I set the remnants on the floor for her. She does a good job cleaning out the dish.

I skirt the claws reaching to grab my arm as I round the butcher block and head to the pantry for the canned cat food. On the way past the fridge I open the door to see if there’s a half can left from yesterday. If there is, I take it out. If there’s not, I need two cans from the boxes that sit on the floor.

Boxes. Plural. I have two boxes of canned cat food. Shreds for the inside cats, pâté for Hatch. Don’t ask me why. It’s just the way I do it. I carry them back to where I work, where the cat food dishes are waiting, and the microwave is now announcing the one-minute water is ready.

I take the hot water out and set it nearby.

Right above the microwave is where Mike’s cup lives. I open the cupboard, take the cup, fill it with water, drop a tea bag in, pop it in the microwave, and set it for two minutes.

Every morning. My routine never varies much.

Until this morning.

I draw the water for Mike’s morning cup of green tea, set it in front of the canister that holds his tea bags, and instead of getting a tea bag, I pick up my jar of coffee and drop a spoonful of crystals into his cup of tea water. They float in cold water.

Aye-yi-yi!

I’ve done this before, but not often.

I dumped it and start again.

Now I’m back on track.

Sometimes the other two cats are here, sometimes they’re not, and sometimes they wander in while I’m making them breakfast. Tiger lounges on the table like he’s the king holding court. Blackie jumps onto a chair so he can take his place next to him. Sometimes Tiger lets him, sometimes he’s feeling a little mean and swats him back to the floor.

Nothing like a little drama in the morning.

I open the drawer under the microwave and get the can opener.

“Don’t the cans have pull tabs to open them?” you say.

Yes. Yes, they do. Using the pull tabs leaves a lip and a sharp edge that cuts my rubber spatula and no matter how hard I try, there’s always cat food left under the lip, and it’s too expensive to waste. I use the can opener.

I portion the shreds between Spitfire, who’s still yelling at me, Tiger, Blackie, and Sugar. I always give Spitfire the lion’s share for two reasons. One, because he’s older and seems to need it more, and the other reason is because Tiger, Blackie, and Sugar never seem to eat all the food I do give them. Sometimes Tiger won’t even touch his.

I guess he doesn’t like the flavor.

Too bad, so sad. There’s always dry food available to them.

Once I have as much scraped out as I can, I dump a little hot water from the cup to the can and run it around with my spatula. There’s no use to wash it down the drain where it does no one any good. I’ll add a little of the dregs to each of the dishes and stir, under the advice of the vet. It gives them more moisture and prevents crystals forming in their urinary tracts.

Then I turn to Hatch’s bowl. He's the feral I feed. Somewhere along the line I’ve put about a cup of dry food in his bowl. If I haven’t already done so, I’ll do it now. Then whatever’s left from rinsing out the cat food can, I’ll dump in his bowl, add the half can of leftover food along with more hot water and mix it a little. This gives him a warm, soupy mixture. He never complains.

Empty cans get a final rinse and set on the sideboard to drain before being tossed into the recycle bag. I don’t need rotting cat food to stink up my house.

At this point I’ve listened to Spitfire complain long enough and give him his dish of food. He tucks in and quiets down. Tiger and Blackie, who wait more patiently, get theirs.

Mike’s tea is done. I pull it from the microwave, set it aside, and put a cup of water in for my coffee. Poke three and the microwave starts. Three minutes. It’ll be done before I’m ready to sit down with it.

I pick up the two remaining bowls of cat food. One gets dropped off for Sugar, the other goes out to Hatch.

I push the cat room door open and hold it with my foot. Before I go in I reach into the bag of dry food that sits outside the door and get a scoop of kibble for his dish. I never put the bag inside the cat room or the wild things that visit in the night would have it empty in a week — or less!

Sometimes Hatch is waiting for me.

If he is I greet him with a cheery, “Good morning, Hatch!”

I swap bowls, picking up yesterday’s empty and replacing it with today’s full one.

Sometimes he wants me to pet him. I can tell because he purrs as he winds himself around my leg. If I pet him and he deems it not long enough, he’ll swat my foot.

Sometimes Hatch doesn’t want me to touch him and he sits just inside the door and won’t come close.

Most times he just tucks into his breakfast.

Sometimes I pet him.

Sometimes I don’t.

When Hatch isn’t waiting for me, open the outside door, surprising the deer feeding there, and yell, “HATCH!” Wait a second and repeat, “HATCH!” If he’s near and hears me, he comes trotting around the side of the building like he knows his name.

Once Hatch is taken care of for the day, it’s back into the house I go. In the pantry is a thirty-gallon trash can where I keep sunflower seeds out of reach of the mice and bears. Not that I have bears in the pantry, mind you, but I did lose a bucket of sunflower seeds to a bear one year when I used to leave it on the patio.

I get a scoop of seeds and head for the kitchen patio. Opening the door can be tricky. Every time I go out, someone thinks it’s time to play ball. Raini barrels past me. I’ve learned to rattle the handle and wait. She’ll dash out the pet door thereby saving me from being bowled over.

Raini is smart though. When Tiger scratches at the door to come in, all I have to do is announce, “I’m letting kitty in!” Raini doesn’t move from her bed.

The birds are usually up and their morning songs bring a smile to this old, wrinkled face.

Raini finds a ball in the yard, brings it, and drops it at my feet.

Fill a feeder, toss the ball. Fill the other feeder, toss the ball. Stand there for another minute or two tossing the ball.

Now my thoughts are turning to one of the most important parts of my day.

I go back in, deposit the birdseed containers back in the bin, put the lid back on (sometimes I forget to do that, too), and head to the computer to tap out a morning love note.

The microwave beeps.

I stood there puzzled. For the life of me I could not remember what I had in the microwave! I opened the door and there was my coffee cup, the water hot and ready for a spoon of crystals.

Heavens to Murgatroyd!

Coffee!

And I had forgotten!

I know forgetting is a part of getting older, but I forgot two things on the same morning! Putting coffee in the tea water I chalk up to distraction. But my first cup of coffee for the day? How could I!

Now I’m worried!

I really don’t want to get dementia.

Then again, I bet no one does.