And this time there was a Maine Coon out on the floor, and she looked a heck of a lot like Lucy, our own late great cat, back when she was a young thing.
The first time we stopped in at Cha ma mo, Dylan was his usual amiable self, checking things out and dangling fuzzy things and shining flashlights for the cats to chase, until he suddenly remembered that his old cat Lucy was dead and started to sob, much to the alarm of everyone else in the room. He recovered quickly and later said he had enjoyed himself (which is why I was willing to go back!). Strangely, and mercifully, this time he didn't get upset, even when faced with his beloved Lucy's doppelganger. (Kids, I tell you -- who can explain them...)
Btw, in case you were wondering, we left Lucy -- who had predated not just the kids but my marriage too -- behind when we moved to Tokyo more than 2 years ago, thinking she was too old and frail to travel such a far way and risk being quarantined and all that. We were right. She got sick and died a few months after we left. (And no I don't believe she died of a broken heart. She was a diva til the end, and any human slave would do.) Finnegan, on the other hand, our neurotic orange tabby who turns 14 this spring, continues to haunt Nonna's cellar in St. Louis.
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