In the Window

Winnie acts like she doesn't like him, but deep down I think she's developed a secret love for Duncan. She perches in her usual spot on the back of the couch and looks down on Pip, who competes for my attention by playing fetch with Roo, or rolling up alongside him when they stretch together on the floor. Olive cuddles next to him on the bed and often stands directly beneath him, the long hair at his chest hanging in her face. Occasionally if Duncan's play with Pip or Olive gets too rowdy, Winnie will charge in from another room where she's been sleeping, and put herself between them, as though she's protecting them from some sort of monster. From day one five years ago, though, Winnie made it perfectly clear that she did not approve of the addition of the little red-haired mop to our family.

But sometimes when everyone is napping in the sunshine and she doesn't think I'm watching, Winnie will snuggle up to one of his toys, the Bully or the Blue Buddha, or sometimes even one of his tennis balls, and run her cheek across its surface, or bat at it playfully, or even curl around it and fall asleep. Recently she's abandoned the kitty water dish in favor of Duncan's big, yellow bowl, which she could easily take a bath in. And once or twice when we're cuddling on the couch or in bed, Winnie on my hip and Dunc resting his head on my thigh, she'll reach out a paw and touch it casually, almost protectively, on his ear or the top of head.

This morning after our walk and a good roll in the snow, Duncan watched me prepare his breakfast while Winnie curled up in the window, the sunlight turning her white face and chest gold. I'd finished stirring up the meat while Duncan chirped and danced as I placed it on his little table. No sooner had he taken a bite than Winnie made a strange little noise in the back of her throat as she flicked her tail. Duncan immediately left his food dish, which I have never seen him do, and ambled right up beside her where they both stared out at the squirrel perched in the tree. It was almost like they'd worked out some sort of system, a signal, something only friends do with each other, like an inside joke, or shared silence.

Winnie may not want to admit it, but she loves Duncan as much as the rest of us. And they both loved that squirrel in the tree long after I left for work.