Saint Sunshine

My cat really is a saint. The shit she puts up with is amazing. Today Cabbage Patch was making Sunshine dance. Sunshine was not to thrilled with this activity yet never attempted to inflict pain on my devious little offspring. Never once did I hear a murmur from the cat as Cabbage Patch put her in a head lock. When Cabbage Patch drug her up the stairs, into her room and shut the door so they could play together, the cat did not protest.

All this reminded me of when Super Girl was 3. I recall how she loved to play with her little pretend kitchen with sink, extending counter and play oven. Super Girl would put Sunshine in the play oven and peek in ever few minutes (checking for doneness maybe?), giggle wildly and slam the door shut. Sunshine would sit patiently until the right moment arrived and she would leap to freedom. She endured being put in the empty toy box and carted around by her. When Super Girl was a wee baby, Sunshine never seemed to mind all the slobbery baby kisses and the tiny hands with a death grip hold on the scruff of the neck or me having to pry the icy (sticky really) hand of death from her body.

After all the abuse she's been subjected to at the hands of the tiny terrorists (being doused with water, dressed in doll clothes, tied in a blanket, tied to the door, given a few hair cuts, had the breath squeezed out of her, dusted with baby powder, hair gelled, locked in toy boxes, etc.) she still loves them. The first day of kindergarten Sunshine promptly sat right on Super Girl as soon as she sat down when she got home. She stayed on Super Girl for almost two hours just purring. The last few days she's taken to laying down with Cabbage Patch at nap times (it's awfully cute to see them napping together). A few moments ago I heard Sunshine open the Little People's door so she could sleep with one of the kids. I often wonder if Sunshine is the nicest cat on earth or if she is rather stupid.