Little does she know that when she goes out, I use her bathroom. Out of sensitivity for her squeamishness, I always wipe the toilet seat with Lysol after I’ve finished. She is totally unaware that I have almost used up the supply she keeps under the sink. The next time I go shopping, I’d better get some more.
Oh, she doesn’t know I go shopping, either. But that’s more complex. I have to wait until she’s out of town and leaves the car here. Then I can make leisurely trips to Safeway, mail my credit card payments, get cash at Wells Fargo. She would never get how I manage to do all that.
I’ll bet you’d like to know, right? How I get in and out of a firmly closed bathroom? She leaves the door latched, of course, because when I was a very little I used to unroll the toilet paper. But I’ve outgrown those childish pursuits. Now, I actually leave her bathroom cleaner than she does.
Anyway, enough about bathrooms. I was going to relieve your curiosity about how I get in and out of her bathroom, how I drive a car, go to the grocery store, etc.
I guess you didn’t know that all cats are shape-changers.
Ellen Dooling Reynard spent her childhood on a cattle ranch in Jackson, Montana, where her mother homeschooled her and five brothers and sisters. Raised on myths and fairy tales, the sense of wonder has never left her. A one-time editor of Parabola Magazine, and co-editor of A Lively Oracle: A Centennial Celebration of P.L. Travers, Creator of Mary Poppins (Paul Brunton Philosophic Foundation, 1999), she is now retired and lives in Nevada City, California where she writes fiction and poetry.