Notes from Father’s Day 2022

or The Cat’s Fine

Stephen H Stein


I checked on Magic at 5:30 this morning. Magic, our cat, was not his usual anti-social self yesterday. He was even more ‘withdrawn’. Further, he did not ravenously badger us at 5 for his 6:00 dinner. In fact, he didn’t eat at all. He just slept — which, as a cat, is typically 30 hours a day anyway.

But it seemed Magic was more than just tired. He was what the veterinary world calls lethargic. I only understood this from Dr Google as there were NO vets available on the weekend. Seriously, none. Except for the emergency place in Chicago which didn’t have anything available until 11:30pm. So long story less complicated, we let Magic sleep.

I thought he’d be somewhere in Nola’s room, but he bounded up the steps when he heard me open the door. Well, bounded might be too strong a word, but he was right there with his eyes bright and tail up.

“You hungries,” I asked.

“Dude,” he said. “I missed dinner. Hell yeah, I’m hungries.”

I gave him some food and went back to catch some Z’s, but there were none to be caught so I mindlessly surfed my phone. I did change my fb profile pic to honor my dad and tagged him so he’d see it.

The sun kept creeping from in from the edges. The day was inevitable.

I have a decent amount of shirts in my wardrobe, but all my sartorial decisions are determined by whatever’s closest. However, I have a Hawaiian-style shirt with Darth Vader heads and THAT is my go-to Father’s Day shirt.

“See my shirt,” I asked Pam as I pulled the blind.

“Yes,” she said. “You’re ready for your day.”

(For not being much of a Star Wars fan, the force is strong with my wife.)

Judah popped out of his room and came down the hall, but I could tell he was making his way for Pam. I blocked his path and then blocked him again when he spun around to go the other way, which meant he had to retreat, which in turn meant I could chase him back to his room, pin him to the floor, and tickle him.