Lyra, digging the outdoors. What you can’t see is her soggy, dirt-balled butt … the aftermath of her sponge bath mentioned in the previous post Traveling with Cat(s). She doesn’t seem too worried about it here though.
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We went on an outing the other day, Rich and I, with our 15-month-old cat. Yes, cat. She’s been a traveler all along. Not by choice, necessarily, but to accommodate a lifestyle we’d established before—and existed when—she arrived, a two-week-old orphan we’d foster until she became adoptable. But sometime during her infancy we decided she was one of those kitties that only a foster family could love. So we kept her.
Lyra has made countless road trips, a majority of them lasting anywhere from 2½ to 6 hours—each way. She’s a pro. And even though my current occupation doesn’t require much traveling these days, we like to keep her practiced. Once a month or so we load Lyra up and drive to someplace woodsy where we can all get out and be one [some] with nature.
There’s a man-made lake not far from here and just past it a semi-secret spot along the river that feeds it. Perfect, we thought, for a timid adventurer and a couple reluctant to parade their cat in public. [click to continue…]
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