I took a kitty cat to the grocery store with me, then we went to the bank. My kitty cat was our 3-year-old with perky ears worn on a headband and a swishy tail safety pinned to her black stretch pants. She wrinkled her nose at the fishy smells of the seafood counter, her painted-on-whiskers twitching in finicky disgust.
It was nearly Christmas, yet my daughter Emily couldn’t let go of Halloween – and why should she? As long as both of us were willing to put ourselves out there for ridicule and admiration, going on errands with a kitty at your side is quite harmless. My usually-shy-in-public daughter, oddly romped very sociably when dressed as a cat. People waiting in line who ignore us when we’re “normal,” cooed over us with questions like, “What’s your kitty’s name?” To my surprise, Emily lasted much longer doing errands as a kitty than as a human child. I was even able to squeeze in the usually horrid Christmas-season-noon-time-post-office-run without incident. Next week I have returns to make; I’m thinking of dressing as Wonder Woman.