Day 43, and I finally gave in…
…to my spouse’s requests, fidgetiness, a touch of boredom…
…and baked my first COVID-cake.
This one is a cinnamon-sour cream cake (technically, a Russian coffee cake, but our family recipe was never called that). It could have been pound cake, chocolate cake, carrot cake.
Carrot Cake! That’s what I call Carrot, that sweet treat in Suite C. I think about him a lot. How is Carrot ding with such a reduction in visitation from adoring fans? Does he miss me as much as he misses somebody else? Does he think of us? Does he think we forgot him?
Like us, the cats at Tabby’s Place have personalities that run the spectra of introverted-extroverted, touch tons-don’t touch at all, cuddle-don’t cuddle, and myriads more. For them, as well as us, the introverted/don’t touch/don’t cuddle types are at an advantage over we extroverted/touch/cuddle types right now.
That doesn’t mean this is easy for anyone, and touch/cuddle never applies to just anybody. But, for the Carrots of the world (especially any as admired, snuggled, and brilliantly orange-and-white as our lap buddy), wow. Yuck. Wow. Ow.
So far, my beloved, largely introverted, touch-and-cuddle only-if-you-know-me-very-well, mountain of a man, strength of my heart, and staunchest supporter seems to have sailed through 42 days unflappably and apparently unscathed. Day 43 seems no different. Whatever day you read this, likely (hope against hope) will be the same for him.
I, on the other hand, have swung from immobility to manic motion, silence to chatter, madness to mildness, on an emotional roller coaster filled with more kinds of people than I could ever have imagined – the full spectrum.
Surely you are wondering, what does this have to do with any kind of cake, but especially dear, adorable, lap-deadening Carrot Cake? In the words of a fabulous Texan I once knew (read very slowly), “Well, I’ll tell you what…”
Some of the most quiet, comfortable, joyous and serene moments of my life have been spent on the floor of Suite C or the Suite C solarium with Carrot Cake on my lap, slowly cutting off the flow of blood to my toes as we’d simply share space, maybe a little music, and sometimes the company of other cats. Jennifur (adopted! hooray!) would drape herself across my ankles, hoping Carrot would vacate prime cat position. Wilbur would sometimes swing by for a quick pet from me, and earn himself a quick swat from Carrot. Louie would show off his playful mousing skills on a toy. Elijah, aka Licky McLickerson, aka Sir Licksalot, aka Licker McLickface, would nestle nearby to, well, you get the picture.
Serene, joyous, magical, resonant moments have been spent on the Suite C floors.
Those moments are blissfully ours to cherish and share on day whatever it is/it just doesn’t matter/meh. And, in just a few more minutes plus cooling time (however many more days until our reunion), I’ll enjoy every moment all over again, along with a warm, what-a-snap-to-put-together (but stay far apart), that-was-easy-to-bake (make it through in retrospect, this being 2020 and that whole hindsight thing), piece of cake.