The Adventures of PadFoots & ToeBeans - #007
THE OUTDOOR COMPROMISE: A Most Thoughtful Improvement
After one full week of convalescence, I am pleased to report that I had made a remarkable recovery.
Naturally, this was due in no small part to the exceptional level of care I received.
Big Human had taken my rehabilitation quite seriously.
Meals were delivered directly to my preferred resting locations.
Medication was administered on schedule.
Blankets were arranged according to my specifications.
My injured limb was inspected regularly.
And, when necessary, I was carried from one location to another so as not to unnecessarily strain myself during this delicate period of healing.
I could walk, of course.
Eventually.
But there seemed little reason to mention this while transportation services remained available.
One should never interfere with a successful rehabilitation protocol.
By the end of the week, however, I was feeling considerably more like myself.
My leg was functioning properly.
My fur was beginning to recover from the unfortunate shaving incident.
And I found my thoughts returning to...
The Wild.
Now, before anyone becomes unnecessarily concerned, I had learned several important lessons during my previous expedition.
Shrubbery, for example, was to be avoided entirely.
I could confidently say that I had completed all necessary research regarding shrubbery.
No further investigation required.
Unidentified Padfoots remained potentially wolfish.
Bodies of water remained suspicious.
Birds remained considerably more confident outdoors than I felt was appropriate.
And any future expedition would require considerably more logistical planning.
But perhaps...
just perhaps...
a monarch should occasionally inspect his realm personally.
Not alone, obviously.
That would be irresponsible.
What I needed was an escort.
Preferably one familiar with the terrain.
Someone capable of carrying provisions.
Someone who could intervene in the event of hostile wildlife.
Someone who could provide transportation should my paws become tired.
Someone who could remove inconvenient vegetation from my path.
I looked toward Big Human.
Yes.
Secret Service.
Perfect.
There remained only one small difficulty.
How exactly did one explain this arrangement to a human?
I would need to give the matter some thought.
Fortunately, my preferred strategic thinking location had recently become available.
The pterodactyl's lodgings had remained suspiciously vacant throughout my convalescence.
Ezra had apparently returned to wherever it is he goes when not temporarily occupying my Estate.
I did not inquire.
I simply took advantage of his absence.
Now that my leg had recovered sufficiently for climbing, I once again made my way to the highest known vantage point in the living space.
The top of Ezra's cage.
Magnificent.
From there, I could survey nearly everything.
The living room.
The kitchen.
The Padfoots below.
Big Human moving about the Estate.
And, through the glass doors...
my realm.
I spent considerable time there imagining future expeditions.
Marlowe, King of the Wild.
Accompanied, naturally, by Secret Service Big Human.
Perhaps she would carry me across particularly questionable terrain.
We would inspect the perimeter.
Visit my outside subjects.
Observe the birds from an appropriate distance.
Then return to the Estate before dinner.
Yes.
This could work.
I was contemplating precisely how these expeditions should be scheduled when something deeply concerning occurred.
Big Humans appeared in my backyard.
Several Big Male Humans.
With tools.
Ladders.
Boards.
Equipment.
I immediately sat upright.
What was this?
I had NOT authorized construction.
They began working around MY patio.
Measuring.
Hammering.
Attaching things.
Building...
something.
I hurried to the glass door for a closer inspection.
Big Human seemed entirely unconcerned.
This was troubling.
Had she hired them?
Had my previous security breach finally prompted her to reinforce the perimeter?
I watched as walls began appearing around the patio.
Then...
screen.
More screen.
Screen everywhere.
I stared in disbelief.
Oh, for heaven's sake.
Big Human had done it again.
Just as I had begun considering carefully supervised expeditions into my kingdom, she had apparently decided to construct an entirely new layer of confinement.
The patio was being enclosed.
My access to the Wild was being systematically eliminated.
I paced along the glass.
This was unacceptable.
Had she learned nothing?
I was no longer an inexperienced house cat recklessly wandering into unknown territory.
I was a seasoned explorer.
A wilderness survivor.
A monarch with subjects.
And now she was building...
...
Wait.
The workers finished.
The tools disappeared.
The male Big Humans departed.
And eventually, Big Human opened the glass door.
I stared.
There was no solid wall beyond it.
No glass.
No barrier blocking the breeze.
Only screen.
I stepped cautiously forward.
Then farther.
And farther still.
Until...
I was outside.
Sort of.
The breeze moved through my whiskers.
I could smell the grass.
Hear the birds.
Watch the trees.
Feel the warmth of the sun.
I could observe my entire realm from an elevated, comfortable position.
And yet...
There were no unknown Padfoots.
No suspicious pond access.
No uncontrolled birds swooping overhead.
And most importantly...
no shrubbery.
I sat down.
This required reassessment.
The Wild...
without actually being in the Wild.
I looked through the screen toward the yard.
Then back through the open glass door toward the Estate.
Climate control was approximately six steps behind me.
Food service remained operational.
My preferred pillow remained nearby.
Big Human remained within calling distance.
And I could still smell the outside world.
This was...
brilliant.
I walked to the edge of the patio and settled into the sunlight.
Apparently Big Human had observed the difficulties encountered during my first expedition and responded by having an entirely new observation facility constructed.
For me.
A protected royal balcony.
A secure wilderness command post.
An outdoor throne room.
My kingdom...
properly managed.
I glanced back at Big Human.
She was watching me.
And smiling.
I had always understood that Big Human took her responsibilities as Estate staff seriously.
She provided meals.
Security.
Medical care.
Transportation.
Comfort.
Emergency rescue.
And, apparently, construction services.
But as I stretched out in the warm patch of sunlight, something occurred to me.
Perhaps this wasn't simply about her duties.
Perhaps Big Human hadn't built this because she was obligated to provide suitable accommodations for the ToeBean-in-Charge.
Perhaps...
she had noticed how much I wanted to be outside.
She knew the Wild made me curious.
She also knew it had frightened me.
And hurt me.
So she had somehow given me both.
The adventure...
and the safety of home.
I looked at her again.
Humans are difficult creatures to understand.
I've spent considerable time studying them.
Their customs are strange.
Their priorities are questionable.
And their ability to function independently remains surprisingly limited.
But Big Human...
Big Human might actually be rather exceptional.
Obviously, I would never tell her this directly.
It could negatively affect the established chain of command.
Instead, I rolled onto my side in the sunshine.
Big Human reached down and rubbed my belly.
I permitted it.
Then I began to purr.
Loudly.
She would understand.
Marlowe's Journal
There are those who believe a great monarch must choose between adventure and comfort.
This is incorrect.
A great monarch simply requires a sufficiently devoted staff to provide both.
Today I discovered that Big Human has constructed what can only be described as a secure royal observation deck overlooking my kingdom.
The breeze is excellent.
The view is exceptional.
The shrubbery cannot reach me.
Perhaps I have underestimated her.
She appears remarkably committed to my safety, comfort, and happiness.
I shall therefore permit her continued service indefinitely.
And perhaps, on occasion, I shall allow her to believe that the purring is for her.
It is.