L and Bida, our cat, have an uneasy relationship. Or maybe it’s a love-hate relationship: L loves, Bida hates.
That might be taking it a bit too far. When Bida is in the mood, a scratch under the neck will bring a quiet purr no matter who’s doing the scratching. Yet sensing that mood is difficult for adults; it’s all but impossible for L. And so, in the name of love, L simply tortures the cat most of the time.
“I’m helping Bida. She’s sick.”
The trouble is, her “love” often is not affectionate; her “help” doesn’t assist in any way whatsoever. L’s simply trying out language and ideas she hears and sees all around her without fully understanding what it means (in the case of “help”) or how to show it (in the case of “love”). The result: a frustrated cat and a scratched little Girl.
At the same time, it’s incredible the patience Bida can sometimes show our budding veterinarian. She has figured out, I think, that if she waits just a moment, K or I will come and rescue her. And if push comes to shove (and L, in her rambunctiousness, can push and shove sometimes), Bida knows how to use her claws. And one would think that two or three painful, deep scratches would teach L to keep her distance, but to date, it hasn’t.
So K and I try to save the two smallest members of our household from each other on a regular basis.