The Cat participated in the State Library’s move to temporary quarters.
The Cat, like most cats, doesn’t always admire human beings. They wreck their health worrying about things that shouldn’t be important and they often can’t seem to effectively address the things that are important. They too often don’t understand the life-enhancing benefits of naps, snacks, patches of sunlight, or pounce games.
However, the Cat sometimes has to admit that human beings can remain calm and cheerful under conditions that would drive any self-repecting feline nuts. Of course, they have a lot of practice in dealing with trouble, but still, their style is sometimes admirable.
The Cat had to admire the State Library staff as they packed up their work lives, saw their offices disappear and sat placidly in the midst of the resulting chaos, munching on chocolate and working on various projects through web access.
The Cat herself did not like the move at all. The State Library had been her home for a number of years and while acknowledging its role in government service, public information and library development, she considered it primarily an attractive home for the CAT. Its Cheshire Cat disappearance upset her equilibrium.
She took refuge in the local public library, which she is fond of. It isn’t home, but it has its good points. There is more human behavior to study, the collections are more interesting and food is always available. Food is brought to the State Library when the staff thinks there is something to celebrate, an approach that doesn’t make any sense to a cat.
The Cat, who loves the state capitol even more than its human residents, is not a great admirer of modular architecture, either.
“Don’t worry,” Jeff Hixon said soothingly. “When we fill it up again there will be lots of places for you to hide. And you know that the staff will appreciate having their library cat with them in the temporary quarters.” “There aren’t any mezzanine levels,” the Cat said grumpily. “The upper mezzanine will be gone when we get back, you know,” replied Jeff. “WHAT?” The Cat yowled in outrage. The upper mezzanine had always been one of her favorite retreats. “Sorry,” Jeff apologized. “I thought you knew. The upper mezzanine isn’t historically accurate and historical accuracy is an obsession with the people who are doing the capitol renovation.”
The Cat, whose interest in social history is only too well known, resorted to grooming one shoulder blade. “Oh, well,” she sighed after a minute. “The way you are going, I probably won’t live long enough to worry about it.” Jeff grinned. “The way we are going, you will probably outlive us all.”
The Cat crawled into an empty box and rumbled thoughtfully until she fell asleep. When she woke up, she had to admit that the State Library staff certainly deserved a purr from the