“Okay, Freddie, can you listen to me for a minute?” I asked him, interrupting his important grooming time.
He stopped licking his paw and looked up at me.
“I don’t want you to worry,” I continued.
“What do I have to worry about?” he asked, straightening up.
“Nothing!’ I said quickly. “It’s just that we called the plumber and he’s going to be in the house.”
You know how this works, but as always, a gentle reminder:
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We were in my bedroom, Freddie supervising while I cleaned. It had been a while since I’d given the space a proper scrubbing and having someone I didn’t know come over (even though I know he wouldn’t care one way or another) was good motivation to get out the duster.
Freddie frowned, tail swishing. “What is a plumber?” he asked.
“Well, you know how the toilet has been running so I shoved the back scratcher into it to make it stop?”
“Uh-huh.”
“He’s going to fix that. And do a few other little things.”
Freddie opened his mouth to respond when the doorbell rang. “That’s him!” I announced and then headed downstairs to let him in.
“Him” turned out to be two guys, one young, one not so young.
As my mom and I explained what we needed done, Freddie crept cautiously down the stairs.
“Who’s this?” the older gentleman asked, watching as Freddie stepped off the bottom stair.
“That’s Freddie!” my mom told him.
“I had a cat until recently,” he told us. “We had to put him to sleep and it was too painful to get another one. Can I pet him?”
We agreed with a warning that Freddie could be skittish in unfamiliar situations.
The plumber crouched down in front of him and held his hand out for a sniff. Freddie obliged, nervously. “Hey there, little guy,” the plumber said.
Freddie turned and raced back up the stairs.
“Sorry about that,” I said. “He’s a nervous little guy.”
The plumber shrugged it off amiably and turned to his partner to decide how to split up the tasks. Once a consensus was reached, the younger plumber headed upstairs with me to look at the toilet.
As we walked I explained about the backscratcher fix and accepted his laughter and friendly mocking. We crossed through my bedroom and into the bathroom to confer over it. As he looked into the tank and assured me it was a simple fix, “just as I thought,” I looked back into my room to see Freddie watching us from under the bed. I crooked my fingers at him, trying to get him to come out. He retreated further into the shadows.
I followed the plumber back down the stairs stopping on the landing to sit down as he made his way out to their truck for a part. My mom walked over and we compared notes — she had been showing the older plumber what we needed done downstairs. He had gone out to the truck for the snake.
As we talked, Freddie made his way to me.
“Are they gone?” he asked.
I reached over to pet him. “Sorry, little guy,” I said, “but they just went outside for a minute. But you have nothing to worry about! They are very nice!”
He pushed his head into my side. “I don’t like them,” he said, stubbornly.
“They won’t be here for very long. And we needed this to happen. You can’t ignore the plumbing,” I said, sagely.
"They should leave,” he said, still rubbing on me.
I started to answer when the front door opened and the plumbers reentered the house, laughing and teasing each other.
Freddie ran back up the stairs and presumably under the bed.
Once they got to work everything went pretty quick. They were done with everything in about twenty minutes. They put their tools away and everyone met up in the kitchen to settle the bill. We are lucky in our local plumbers — they are reasonably priced and never charge us for anything we don’t need. As I wrote the check, I noticed Freddie sitting at the edge of the kitchen, watching.
The older plumber noticed him too. “There he is!” he said, but didn't approach.
Freddie stood and backed up a few steps, but didn’t run this time.
I signed the invoice and accepted my copy and then we walked them to the door. Freddie danced out of the way and followed us at a distance.
Once they were gone, we went to the living room and sat down. Freddie jumped onto the couch next to me.
“See?” I said, rubbing his back. “That wasn’t so bad. And we needed this stuff fixed.”
“No,” he said, petulant. “Never again.”
I laughed. “Don’t be such a scaredy cat!”
He sat up and glared at me, insulted. “That’s not a nice thing to say,” he told me.
“They were nice!” I argued. “And you acted like they were going to pounce on you!”
“I didn’t know them,” he said, dripping with offended dignity.
I sighed. “I know,’ I said. “But I would never let anything happen to you.”
He settled down again. “I suppose,” he muttered. “Maybe it wasn’t so terrible.”
“Good!’ I told him. “Then you’ll be fine when we have someone here to fix the sliding glass door!”
He stood up quickly. “WHAT? NO!”
Happy Caturday, Peeps! I’m working again (boo!) but things have been going okay there (knock on all the wood) so I don’t anticipate being home too late. Have fun until then!
Happy Easter and Passover to all who celebrate!