By Sheri LeClair Banitt
It’s Minnesota in February. The days are getting longer but it’s still snowing and blowing and cold. We haven’t been outside much, and we’re in between holidays. That’s what gives us cabin fever. We’re tired of being inside and longing for fresh spring air and budding greenery. To combat the feelings of malaise and boredom, we look for fun indoor activities.
In my family there are a few birthdays early in the year during cabin fever days; one in January, one in February and one in March. Birthdays and dinners and cakes are a perfect opportunity for indoor fun. A tradition my husband and I kept is the breaking of the wishbone. Both he and I recall being kids when the wishbone was saved from the Thanksgiving turkey. Then two people would make a wish. Each person would grab one side of the wishbone and pull to break it. Whoever got the bigger piece would have their wish come true.
To keep the wishbone tradition alive, we save the wishbones from our roasted poultry throughout the year. I wash them and keep them on the high kitchen windowsill above the sink to dry, so they are ready to break at each birthday.
So, cats. Housecats. They have never stepped a paw outdoors since the day they were rescued and brought inside from the feral colony. Yet they have cabin fever. I can tell by the way they are rampaging through the house yowling and scattering toy mice everywhere. They are tussling and fighting more than usual.
But the real tell that they have cabin fever is this. The three wishbones that were drying on the kitchen sink windowsill are gone. There are very miniscule bone fragments and a partial top of one. But only a cat would jump up high, chew on the wishbones, carry them off, and never leave a footprint. Then look me in the eye without a trace of guilt and meow for a treat.
