On the mornings I call my mother, who still lives in the house I grew up in, I allow extra time so she can complain about ‘our’ cat. Apparently, Schatzi has become mesmerized by the ice breaking up, viewing this seasonal occurrence from the window overlooking the river. When allowed out on the patio, she continues her vigil. She’s even braved the soggy lawn, actually wetting her delicate feet, to get a closer look. I warned my mom that this might not be a good idea as Schatzi may decide to jump on an ice floe and become stranded.
“Oh, no,” she said, “Your brother has taken care of this. I watch her carefully, and he’s put the rowboat by the shore, so that we can get to her quickly if that happens.”
I can just see the headlines in the Montreal Gazette and the newsreel on the local news.
“84 year old woman, in a rowboat, battles icebergs as she fights the currents of the St. Laurence, to save a cat stranded on an ice floe. Helicopters lift the cat to safety as my mother splutters. ‘I didn’t need any helicopters, I could have saved her myself!’”