Snow fell for most of the morning, but temperatures were rising and finally, around 11 a.m., we lurched out of Portland, laden with cat and construction tools and a pile of window trim that Tom had prepped to install in our friend's kitchen. Fortunately the weather was worse in the city than anywhere else: mostly we drove through drizzle, with occasional spats of heavier rain. The roadways were wet but not slick; and in the back seat, the cat, goopy with painkillers, yowled a little, without conviction.

Three hours later,  the medication had largely worn off, and by the time we arrived Ruckus was grumpy. But as soon as we opened his carrier in the cottage, he changed his tune. Like most everyone else who sees it, he fell in love with the place. He inspected every cranny, he climbed on the beds, he purred as I lit the wood stove, he sampled his chow, he tried out his new litterbox, he cuddled into the blanket, he peered through the screened porch at seagulls and crows, and he snuffed up the delicious scent of saltwater. He enjoyed visiting with company at dinner and squished cozily between Tom and me all night. In short, except for the twice-a-day pilling ordeal, he is having a terrific time on vacation. 

This morning, as Ruckus and Tom wallow in bed, I am staring out at low tide. Gulls are wailing, and rain will fall on and off all day. In a little while I'll walk up to my friend's house and do the Sunday crossword puzzle with her and her sister. My friend and I may go out and play music at the soup kitchen later in the morning: the car was too full for me to bring the violin, but I might re-set her uke to fiddle tuning and see what sounds I can pry out of it. In the afternoon T and I might go out for a walk somewhere in the rain. Or he might install our friend's window trim. Or we might read books and take naps. It's good to be here, in our little cottage by the sea, with our happy convalescing cat. And who knew that traveling with a cat could actually be fun? I would never have expected it.