Sometime last summer, back when the Boo was so little I would take walks with him strapped to my chest, I saw them for the first time. A man walking a gorgeous chocolate lab, and trailing behind them by about ten feet, a smallish, fluffy orange tabby. As I kept watching, it became clear that he was following them, pausing to get cozy with the dog, roll in dirt or groom himself, then springing up again when they got too far ahead.
I approached the man and asked abut the cat. “Oh, that’s Kinney, he’s been following us like that since we lived near a golf course in Florida.” As we chatted, it turned out his wife was a few months from delivering their first child. I was ecstatic — even that early in my mom career, I was jazzed about the prospect of neighbors with babies.
These days, that couple has become our friends, that baby is a year old, and the Boo and I have ditched the Baby Bjorn in favor of the stroller. We almost always end up in the tiny park where we first met Kinney the cat so he can “run, run, run,” one of his favorite activities.
If you are a regular reader, you know that the Boo is obsessed with cats — demands that we draw them for him, points them out excitedly on bags of cat food, and identifies them correctly (which is not the case with most other animals). As soon as we enter the park, he starts up.
“Cat?”
“Hm, let’s see. Oh cat, where are you?”
“Cat? Caaaaaaaat?”
About sixty percent of the time, the cat is there, or shows up before we leave. He’ll sometimes stroll toward us, fluffy tail up in greeting. Boo will ask, “pat?” And I will say yes, but be gentle, and guide his hand to show him what gentle means. Kinney will take pretty much whatever my toddler dishes out, even if my kid just interrupted a squirrel-stalking session with thundering feet and gleeful squeals.
And on the rare occasions when he dishes out a swat, we get to chat about being gentle.
Mama-Come-Lately 
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