I woke up in the chair this morning when the cat started nudging me awake with her claws and teeth – chirping in my ear and running her little pads over my hair.
When I opened my eyes my whole field of vision was filled with her huge yellow eyes – and I hear her name – Skobath.
Skobath and I go for breakfast and she attacks her kibble and bits of ham with a furious attention she hasn’t shown before.
Her claws shred the bit of meat and she licks it off the table and her paws – she maintains eye contact the entire time.
There’s a knock on my door and I’m entirely not surprised to find Barbie at the door with a dozen eggs. I invite her in and offer to cook some breakfast for her – she accepts and settles into a chair.
She absentmindedly pets the cat and coos at her – generally ignoring me while I prepare her food.
I set the plate down in front of her and she eats with gusto – those huge teeth digging in with interest and energy.
“You named the cat,” She said as a statement.
“She named herself,” I said.
“It’s a good name,” She said.
“I should hope so.”
“You’re keeping her?”
“I have to now – I named her,” I replied.
“I thought she named herself,” she said.
“I thought you were gone.”
“I came back.”
“I’m happy you’re back,” I told her and collected the dirty plates to take them to the sink.
I heard her leave the house while my back was turned.
That seems about right.