One of the places I’ll miss most when we leave Cambridge is our local, the Cambridge Blue. We took Emmie to the garden there the first week she was home, and she’s been something of a regular ever since.
Here’s some brief footage from a sunny Sunday afternoon last week, as Emmie got a chance to play with all the ladybugs out back.
posted by Jason 10:59 PM
Emelyn is so tall now, she’s able to grab the windowsill in our bedroom, stand on her tippy-toes, and peer out at the world. This means that part of our early-morning routine- specifically, the part right after I stumble in from the nursery, deposit Emmie on the bed, and crawl back under the covers - begins with Emmie sliding back off the bed, running to the window, and chanting ‘Ooh-go, Ooh-go’ as she looks across Ainsworth Street to Helen’s house.
Alas, Ugo the cat died two weeks ago. This is sad news. Ugo was a good cat, uncommonly gentle, and Emmie loved her visits with him.
In fact, “Ugo” was one of Emelyn’s first words. She’d point at the front door and say “goo-goo” long before we figured out what she meant. It shouldn’t have surprised us — Emmie visited Helen’s house almost every day, and Ugo was always present. Emmie, for her part, would happily sit on him, chase him, pull his tail and yank all his whiskers. And he never so much as lifted a paw in return.
He was kind to me, too: On that long night when Emelyn was born, I came home alone from the NICU at 4am to find little Uggi sitting on the doormat. For me, it’s one of those strange coincidences that’s almost too hard to explain. Ugo wasn’t an outdoor cat, you see; I can’t say why he climbed his way out of Helen’s home and garden that particular night, or why exactly he chose to wait on my stoop. But there he was.
Our house was like a second home for Ugs, I suppose: We helped looked after him while Az was pregnant; poor Ugo was going through a not-very-nice-time in his life, then, having to wear one of those big plastic collars to protect a wound on his neck. Contrary to pretty much every other feline on the planet, Ugo would actually purr when you tied that awful collar on. Maybe he was smart enough to know you were helping him, or maybe he was just gentle to the core. Maybe both.
To be honest, I only saw Ugo really growl and act like a cat once. Helen had to travel to a conference in the States, so Ugs had been staying at our house; this was a month or two before Emmie was born. We were in the middle of a Cambridge summer heatwave, and sleeping with almost every window in the house open. Ugo took over the foot of our bed at night, and would migrate to the open windowsill as dawn broke, to watch the waking birds.
As for the growls: neither of us actually saw Ugo’s big moment. But it’s easy enough to put the pieces together. Azure woke from a pounce on the bed and “those awful chirping noises”; I woke from Azure shouting at Ugo. I saw feathers on the bed; you can imagine the rest.
Yes, Ugo had beaten all the odds: A greying ‘indoor’ cat, hampered by a four-inch plastic collar around his neck, and trapped on a second-story windowsill, had nevertheless managed to catch a birdie.
It was a victory that woke every dormant feline instinct in that cat. Because no matter how hard I tried, and no matter how much Azure yelled, and no matter how much the poor bird cried, Ugo wouldn’t surrender his prize. I wound up chasing Ugi all around the bedroom, down the stairs, around the house, and eventually into the garden.
It ended there, finally, with me prying Ugo’s jaws open, and a mess of blood and feathers. Ugo was livid; he growled and growled at me like I’d never seen. And growled some more. He was, in a word, wild.
For just a few minutes, though.
Other than that he was a softie, always. He tolerated Emmie better than I could imagine any cat doing; and she loved him for that.
posted by Jason 8:59 AM
We had a good Easter, yesterday. It’s a 4-day holiday in the UK, so there’s been plenty of time to relax and just hang around the house. We’ve squeezed in a few great bike rides, too — the weather seems to have finally turned, and it feels like everybody in town has decided to stroll or cycle along the Cam this weekend.
Emelyn had a little surprise waiting when she woke from her nap on Easter Sunday: a little (very little) egg hunt in the backyard. We actually wound up doing it three times, as Emmie enjoyed it more with each go; she’s been talking about eggs all morning long today, too.
posted by Jason 7:24 AM
Here’s a few of the clips that wound up on my desktop after making our little Valencia video. B-sides, Outtakes, Deleted Scenes… dunno what to call ‘em, but I figure they’re still worth sharing:
posted by Jason 11:19 PM
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