Officially her name is Sweet Potato, but we call her Potato. Unlike our other cats, she hasn’t accrued nicknames. A friend suggested Tater or Tot, but my husband said no. Sometimes it’s Potatoa, pronounced like Krakatoa, and precisely because she too can erupt with the chaotic energy of a volcano.
She is a tiny six pounds (and one pound of that may be tail)–all of it wild. She leaps into the sink while you’re washing dishes. She races down the stairs in front of you and flattens herself on the very step you’ve got your foot poised above. She scales the walls using the edges of picture frames as her ladder. She thrusts her head into the pan while you’re cooking. She stalks the house scanning floor, walls, ceiling for something to get into.
She is a cat who frequently needs to be saved from herself, but she won’t appreciate your efforts. She squirms and bucks and flounders in your arms, and as soon as you put her down, she tears right back to wherever she was just removed from.
She loves with just as much enthusiasm as she lives. She runs to greet me when I come home from work. She throws herself onto my lap in the evening, her whole body vibrating with purrs, and stretches her paws to pat my face as I pet her. She wakes my husband a dozen or more times a night ferociously grooming his beard and sticking her feet in his mouth.
Her favorite toys are a spinach leaf (fresh leaves supplied daily) and a pink sock that she dashes around the house carrying while she moans loudly.
My theme for Slice of Life 2022 is finding inspiration in the writing of others. Each day I plan to find my slice in someone else’s words or forms. This post was inspired by Cat Musings at The Journey.
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