Kitty goes catatonic while crossing seven states

A full week along and I am still suffering the latent side effects of my recent marathon drive from Ohio to New Mexico. The mission delivered my youngest daughter to a new job at an abandoned 19th-century U.S. Army fort along the Santa Fe Trail. The trip home, which should have been an uneventful airline ride across a half-dozen flyover states, became a hard lesson on how a winter storm on the other side of the country can turn a simple trip into a 17-hour odyssey. My body is now permanently hunched in the profile of a coach-class airliner seat. Always one to look for the upside, I’ll admit that the flight delays did offer plenty of time to reflect upon the week’s adventures.

Once we had learned Sylvia’s destination, I suggested she watch a film set in the very era during which her fort was thriving. Sadly, she never took time to sit down with the epic western “Dances With Wolves,” a film which saw Kevin Costner’s character, Civil War officer John Dunbar, sent along with his horse, Cisco, to an outpost at the far edge of the frontier. So lonesome was the assignment that the protagonist struck up a friendship with the only other creature in the region, a wolf he dubbed “Two Socks” for its pair of white paws.

Sylvia’s assignment seems a lot like that of Lt. Dunbar, but in place of a trusty buckskin stallion, she currently relies upon a wrung-out red Toyota she refers to as “Richard.” Rather than risk friendship with the most adjacent native creature — a badger with a dubious reputation for tunneling under building foundations and standing on his hind legs to peer into the ranger’s windows — she brought along her own critter, her mutant housecat “One Nostril Newt.” Sadly, the cat’s presence has robbed me of the chance to bestow the nickname “Dances With Badgers” upon my youngest child. (“Dances with One Nostril” is just a little too weird.)

As for his own take on the adventure, “Newt” had little to say during the 22-hour cross-country drive, having immediately settled into a state of traveling torpor.

Perched upon Sylvia’s lap in a soft-sided cage akin to a royal litter, the cat did absolutely nothing across the entire length of the drive. Call it a cat-atonic state if you will, but the normally obnoxious character lay purr-fectly still throughout the trip. Even as we came within a whisker of running out of gas, Newt remained curled and calm. Perhaps it was the constant purr of the engine? (The puns may seem tired and obnoxious now, but trust me, when you’ve been driving for 13 hours straight, they’re absolutely hilarious.)

Such care was given to the transport of One Nostril Newt that I sometimes felt I should be brooming the path ahead of His Royal Highness. Sylvia would literally apologize to him as she was about to shift her own position or step out of the car to stretch her legs at a refueling stop.

In gratitude for his handlers’ kindness and gentle care, Newt arose to bounce off the walls all night long in the motel room we finally ditched in after 15 hours of driving on day one. Same when we finished the trip and worked to unload the car into Sylvia’s new digs. As of this writing, he has yet to settle in and resume his role as the purrfect companion. (I couldn’t resist just one more dumb pun.)

Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email John at jlorson@alonovus.com.