November 1, 2011
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November 1, 2011
I love puppets. I also love cats. How could I resist a cat puppet? I didn’t. I bought one last week just because he was so darned cute. I’m 62-years old. Am I too old to have fun with a puppet? No way. Let me tell you why.
This little puppet is an orange tabby cat. When I was a little girl, I had an orange tabby kitten that I named Rufus. He fit in my pocket when I got him. That’s what I planned to call this little guy until I looked him in the eye. His eyes reminded me of a cat I had known named “Harley.”
My little puppet took on a new identity. His became a hyphenated name, Harley-Rufus. I even went to Petco and bought him a collar and name tag. I didn’t care if they thought I was “nuts.” He came to work with me today, Halloween. I’m a nurse. I popped him out of my bag and surprised my patients . . . and they laughed. One even petted him as if he was real . . . he had a really big smile on his face. My little puppet, Harley-Rufus, was a big hit . . . perhaps “little hit” is a better fit.
Today is Halloween. A little boy came by tonight, rang the doorbell and said “trick-or-treat.” Harley-Rufus was handing out candy. The little boy asked me if he was real. The truth of youth . . . Are you ever too old for toys?
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