The three giant duffel bags had been stuffed into the back of the pickup, along with two jam-packed coolers, all our fishing gear and, incongruously, my little blue makeup case (I don't go anywhere without it!).
The note was in place on the counter with the emergency contact numbers, the cats' bowls were filled, the plants were watered, and the hummingbird feeders had been replenished.
We'd already been up for hours getting ready to leave for our much-anticipated houseboat trip on Lake Vermilion, and my husband, Ken, was chomping at the bit to get going - when suddenly I dashed back into the house in a panic.
"Where are you going?" he cried.
"I forgot to leave the radio on for the cats so they don't get lonely!" I yelled over my shoulder.
ADVERTISEMENT
I flew into the bedroom and brought out the clock radio, set it up on the kitchen counter and began surfing through the channels.
Ken watched impatiently from the door frame as I landed on a rock station.
"Oh, that will never do," I fretted. "All that noise will freak them out!"
I flipped the dial over to Minnesota Public Radio.
"I'm not so sure they'll like that because there are always so many talk shows...." Ken commented.
I turned the dial all the way to one end, to a soothing classical music station.
Though the little Siamese had long ago run up the stairs and hidden under the bed, Marmalade, the big orange male, had been perching curiously on the edge of the counter and staring at us.
As the opening strains of Johann Sebastian Bach's "Brandenburg Concerto" swelled throughout the room, I looked over at Marmalade. He returned my glance with a pointy-faced stare, ears tilted at a peculiar, sideways angle and eyes slightly crossed.
ADVERTISEMENT
"Look at that!" cried Ken. "He doesn't like it! You'd better just try to find whatever station comes in the strongest and settle for that."
I twisted and turned the dial until I finally landed on a "goldie oldie" station that seemed like it might work.
I glanced at Marmalade and then I glanced at Ken.
"Whaddaya think?" I quizzed.
Suddenly, Ken threw up his hands and headed for the front door.
"I can't believe it! Here we are, all packed up and ready to head out for a week's vacation on Lake Vermilion - and we're standing in the kitchen talking about what kind of the music the cats want to listen to while we're gone!"
Pine Journal Publisher Wendy Johnson can be contacted at: wjohnson@pinejournal.com .
