Minding Miss Meli

Minding Miss Meli:  A vignette in time 

Miss Meli and I met in unusual circumstances. I still recall my trepidation when I first saw her. I remember retreating a step or two, not sure if I was entirely welcome in her presence. Oh! No, she was undoubtedly not forbearing, but then she was not very aggressive either. She was neither intimidating nor overly pushy. She was not ugly or scary looking. She was not even very big. In fact, she was a petite little Miss with large soulful eyes that sort of had looked away from me after that first fierce glance. I was glad for it then, but little did I know that later it was these very same eyes that would so successfully seduce me. Her striking personality asserted that she missed nothing and would fathom everything. Such was her confidence.

 

It is now almost three years since we met that very first time, and then we shared the same roof for nearly three weeks. After the initial encounter, we both settled into a kind of routine. We very soon shared a camaraderie that complemented our inter-dependence. 

 

Blokes like me get used to being looked at with a certain suspicion and serious doubt at our capability to fulfill any familial sort responsibility we may be entrusted with. My tradesmen’s clothes that should inspire confidence in those who hire and pay us, do the exact opposite when it comes to the caregiving kind of matters. The looks of seeming distrust from some now seem routine. At our first meeting, I believe that assumption triggered Miss Meli’s initial reaction upon my arrival on their doorstep that evening. 

 

It had come about that the Halls were going away for their annual vacation to Scotland, and Miss Meli did not take kindly to travel. Through mutual friends, they had found me, a willing and eager house sitter in need of short-term lodging, to look after their cats, a few fish, a rabbit, and a dog. 

 

There was Angus, the big, brown, and muscular tomcat, and his mate Goldie. She waited aside politely for Angus to finish eating first before lowering her mouth to the bowl. Angus signaled his satiation by a series of first soft and then loud meows before proceeding through the living room towards the doggy door that led him outdoors as he trotted away on a full stomach to pursue his favorite pastime of vagabonding. 

 

The kitchen was then Goldie’s domain, where she commanded the corner by the window, turning her head this way and that way, closing her eyes in concentrated relish, as she purposefully munched the very same food from the very same bowl that Angus had impatiently wolfed down. She was a light-footed feline who had made an art form of ignoring Angus when he deserved to be ignored. I could have sworn Goldie thought Angus went out drinking after dinner; such was her utter disdain at his hurried and dismal departure soon after he had eaten. On the other hand, she relished her dining experience and was very comfortable keeping herself home after dinner. If she was disappointed in him, she did not let on and just meandered around the house before jumping up onto the sofa and strategically placing herself in front of the T.V., her eyes half-closed, her thoughts known entirely to herself. Upon his return, Angus would quietly, but not cautiously, slink into the master bedroom, avoiding Miss Meli when he could, taking up residence for the night on the master’s side of the bed. 

 

Miss Meli observed everything but said nothing. Her eyes followed every movement and every sound in the house as she sat upon whichever chair or sofa it was her pleasure to do so at the time. No one was left with any doubt on who the true mistress was for the better part of the day. There was a certain voice to Miss Meli’s silence, and I think the creatures in the house knew that. Miss Meli’s expression said what she indeed must have been feeling because she often would slowly shake her head from side to side in hopelessness as she outwardly ignored their irregularities. Luckily the guinea pigs were being cared for by the Smiths across the street. Thank goodness for that. She had enough to deal with without those smelly critters around.

 

The fish went round and round, up and down in their glass bowl, and only needed feeding every other day, so they were no problem. However, it was the Rabbit that was an entirely different kettle of fish! 

 

It was Rabbit Miss Meli deplored the most. He was the worst behaved in the absence of its young owner. Mrs. Hall had told me he ate lettuce very happily and enjoyed a big appetite. Sadly, I learned otherwise. He thrived basically on variety for his vegan habits. The lettuce was usually left untouched. The apples were finished one day, and only broccoli would be eaten the next day. Stale browned apples lay scattered around with hardly a nibble on them on another day. I was never sure what his Royal Fluffiness would favor the next day. Rabbit was fussy about not eating and selective in what he ate. He was not just eccentric, but he was downright queer. He either would not venture out of his pen in the garage or, if he was coaxed into doing so, was nowhere to be found when it was time to come back in. Or if he was found, he led us both, Miss Meli and I, to a merry dance before he would be caught and saved from becoming a feast for the foxes that roamed in the night. 

 

I had been told that Miss Meli was good with bringing him in, but I soon learned that option should only be considered my last resort. Miss Meli certainly did not suffer a fool. She spared no mercy when entrusted with rounding up Rabbit, so much so that I was genuinely concerned for his safety when I depended upon her help to do so. For some reason, though, around Miss Meli, Rabbit justified her actions with his obnoxious behavior. Miss Meli’s persistence and agility were remarkable. She could find him under the thickest hedge or behind the bushiest bushes, hiding around the compost bin, or smugly seated behind the large pots on the terrace. Miss Meli always found him, and she hustled him into the garage. It was a frequent and usually predictable game of I Spy. Sometimes I wondered who enjoyed the chase more, the hunter or the hunted. If Rabbit could speak, I would know.

 

 

The leaves had begun to turn color again, and I was coming back to Canberra around the same time of year. When we had gone for walks, I had let Miss Meli lead me being new to the area, as together we had come upon many a beautiful garden. I had done most of the talking, being curious and she being a good listener, had respected my human need to communicate, acknowledging me always with appropriate and periodic nods of her wise head. 

 

It seems like yesterday, but I wondered how much Miss Meli would have changed in three years. She was an ageless beauty, I was sure of that. I thought of her fondly as I pulled into their driveway. Mrs. Hall was expecting me, and I saw the door open just as I was getting out of the car. Behind her was Miss Meli, her curiosity suddenly turned to recognition, and before I knew it, she was in my arms. A man’s best friend indeed. After all, a dog never forgets.

 Copyright Veenu Banga

July 2006