Displaying an agreeability I always knew she had to have, Gloria comes to sit beside me on my kneeling (let’s call it what it is: my SITTING) pad, pleasing me even further as she retains a pleasant silence, leaving me to stew in my thoughts as I weed. She has no objection to my scrunching the pad ahead as I must do – as long, that is, as I don’t disturb her end.

The unpredictableness of babyhood has departed – mostly – as Gloria has entered her teenage years. I’m filled with gratitude for so often before I ended up feeling like a dreadful scold.

Oh, yes, I am well-versed in the rewards of positive reinforcement. When it works. When it’s even possible. With Gloria, only one word got through and it wasn’t a positive anything but, instead, a sharp no! And, when she tuned that out, as she frequently did, an even louder NO.

She gets my hints now – quite easily, quite readily – though even hinting isn’t required all that often.

I admit I’m very happy – may I confess to also being relieved? – that she has almost always gotten along with her two older – and definitely larger – “brothers.” Their care and concern for her is obvious. While they feel far too adult to want to join in her games, they easily tolerate her play. One never knows when (or from where) she may leap out at the younger one, though he does tend to get his revenge by stealing a toy or two. Funny, I don’t think Gloria minds at all.

Still, teenage is not what I associate with the lovely and even sameness I expect in an adult. Gloria remains a young lady with one heck of a volatile temper. Tantrums rule when she doesn’t get her way. She doesn’t. Let her bite or scratch, hiss or even howl. (I’m sure her doctor is relieved that she needn’t return for another year.) Still, these tempers pass quickly, at which point she behaves as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred at all.

Who? Me?

Yes, dear Gloria, I do mean you. Oh, yes, you – the feline cuddler. Gloria, also my copy editor. She expects to be allowed to stretch out on the keys and generally behaves for a while. I do have a semi-written column … until the bottom turned into an undecipherable series of lines of repeated numbers. They did vary. I also kept a page with heavy brown footprints. How she could get mud all the way to my den is something else again.

What’s more, life centers around her – to her. Pamper me. None of us are of any value until we can be of service to her. 89999999999999999999999999999999999999 (and she’s at it again!)

Which, remembering my three girls now grown into happy and responsible adults, has also prepared me for the willfulness of those teenage years.

As for rules – well, that’s quite all right … for somebody else. She’s up (or not), comes when she feels like it and then sleeps all day, waking only for meals. And that’s one thing she isn’t ever going to miss. She has an inner clock (or exceptionally good ears), for she’s there and waiting when the dogs get fed. Well, let me qualify that word: waiting. You and I might associate it with silence and patience. Gloria understands neither. She’s very vocal from the moment I begin dishing up the food. I have never not fed her. Dry at morning and night but treats when I share lunch with Quillow and Minor (mostly fruit, sometimes an egg or cereal). She’d prefer what the dogs eat – at least until she gets a bite or two. (Have I not mentioned how patient with her they are?)

Distressingly, she is also one great hunter. Snakes, few birds (whew!) but she shows an especial fancy for toads. I too like toads, just not in my hallway.

There were times I never thought we’d reach this stage. The blood-letting (mine) has stopped and she truly does frequently deign to be sociable. If she’s around and awake, it’s good.

I expect it to get even better.

Susan Crossett has lived outside Cassadaga for more than 20 years. A lifetime of writing led to these columns as well as two novels. Her Reason for Being was published in 2008 with Love in Three Acts following in 2014. Information on all the Musings, the books and the author may be found at Susancrossett.com