Carl

Every summer I like to pretend that I enroll my cat Carl in vacation Bible school. You see, in my games and dreams he’s my precious little son, forever four years old. Well, I mean, he’s a cat, but he wears clothes and talks and walks on two legs like any human child. He’s a cat, but he’s fully accepted in human society. In fact, when I drop him off at vacation Bible school, all the teachers and the other mothers always tell me how cute he is.

“Oh, your son is so adorable,” they say.

“Thank you,” I say.

Once Carl’s week at vacation Bible school is over, our summer days are less structured. Sometimes I take him to the city pool and he wears his water wings.

On quiet afternoons, we head to the library. I ride my bike, with Carl tucked into a little seat behind me. On the way home he sits in his seat and reads one of the books we’ve checked out while I pedal. He likes Sylvester and the Magic Pebble.

Carl is so sweet–not just in my silly dreams but in real life. He’s always looking at me and “talking” to me and following me around with his tail held high. He’s my little sunshine.