Little Lorca

From Jane's World

Mom says I was named after the Spanish poet, Federico Garcia Lorca. I don’t know the guy, and neither does Mom. Go figure! I must have Spanish relatives. 

Mom calls me Little Lorca. I am little. My ears and tail seem to be growing faster than my body. But I’m still young, so maybe this is just the awkward stage people talk about.

There are only a few pictures of me (although I must admit I look pretty cute in them) and not yet a single story written about me. I guess that’s because I’m the youngest in the family. This isn’t as much a complaint as it is an observation. Mom will tell you I’m not a big complainer.

I’m allowed to go outside now that I’ve grown some. I am busy from sunrise to sunset. I can spend hours following a leaf blowing across the yard, hiding inside Mom’s potted plants and digging in the dirt (she doesn’t like this), or playing with the hose where there is a leak. I like trying to trap the water spray under my paws. When I get tired I like to sleep on top of the woodpile.

I play well both on my own and with others. Mom says that’s a fine and admirable trait to have. She likes when I play with my older brother, Monkey, but she doesn’t like it as much when he makes me yell “Uncle!” Sometimes, like big brothers tend to do, Monkey plays too rough and pins me down until I start hollering. If I yell loud enough Mom will interfere and pull him off me. 

Being the youngest is not always easy around here, especially with three dogs around. Raime, that merciless border collie, follows me everywhere. I go left, Raime goes right; I go right, Raime goes left; I sit down, Raime stands two inches away from my face and tries to have a staring contest with me. It’s aggravating.

Worse is Téte, that black slab of naughty fur. I’ll be minding my own business and she’ll come running towards me full blast. Scares me half to death. When I jump up and arch my back she stops on a dime. One of these days she’s gonna make me have a heart attack. She must think it’s fun because she never hurts me, only frightens me.

That rat Finnegan thinks he’s something special. The other day Mom was telling him he needed a bath because he rolled in something he wasn’t supposed to. What do you think he did then? He had a hissy fit because he doesn’t like the cold water from the hose. He only likes to bathe in the tub with warm water. Mom let him slide. Then he had the nerve to come and lie down next to me, so now I stink too!

I was born on a farm, not too far from my new home here. I overheard the farm people telling Mom I was an accident. It hurt my feelings. Why do people think we animals can’t hear or feel? My ears are plenty big and so is my heart. It doesn’t matter anyway. Accident or not, Mom says I can stay with her forever. That’s fine with me. She bought me my own bed and three new felted mice toys. 

I love those mice! I play with them every morning and evening. I bat them all around the house, pounce on them when they least expect it, and carry them around in my mouth. Big bro Monkey thinks I’m silly. Yesterday he came up to me with a real mouse in his mouth. Well, la de da. He ended up getting yelled at by Mom anyway. Ha ha ha! 

There’s also an old cat here named Farley. I call him Grandpa Farley. He doesn’t pay much attention to me. Mom explained that he’s mourning the loss of his old friend, green-eyed Newman. 

Grandpa Farley likes to spend the whole day lying in the front porch swing. I like napping on the woodpile best, but I started thinking maybe Grandpa would feel better if I napped with him. He does, I think! He acts like he’s not as sad anymore. I notice Grandpa didn’t sleep as long yesterday. He actually walked around the porch rail. That’s a cool trick! I tried to get up there with him but I couldn’t make it. I'll need to grow more first.

I hear Mom calling me. It sounds like she’s saying, “Yittle Yorca.” When I hear Mom call me I always run for her. She picks me up and cradles me in her arms, and I start purring. Truth be told, though, she holds me too long for my liking. I mean, really, I’m a big boy now and I don’t need to be held like a baby and smothered with kisses all the time. I have things to do, so many places to explore, and so much to learn. The other day I thought I heard Mom say that soon I’m going to the vet to be tutored. Maybe I’ll be learning Spanish!

Originally Published July 13th, 2017 in the Crawford County Independent & Kickapoo Scout