The Colonel Takes Up Its Post at No. 7

Under 9 Lbs. and Unafraid

Priya put it together while Raj read the box aloud, the way he reads everything, as though it might later be asked about on a test.

Gus came over with his arms folded. He said he could build that. Then Priya handed it to him, and he held it out at arm's length, and I watched a man recalibrate his whole idea of what a tool owes the world. It weighs under 9 lbs. He lifted it with one hand, which surprised him, and he set it down again carefully, as if it might have noticed.

Raj said it was the first vacuum he had ever seen that did not need to be talked into anything.

Stairs, Sofa, Swivel

Priya ran the first pass across the front hall, where the hardwood gives way to a rug that has seen things. The machine is meant for carpets and bare floors alike, and the hall offered both. It steers with a swivel, so it came around the leg of the hall table as though the table had asked politely.

Then she lifted the hand vac off the wand and took it up the stairs. The twins, from behind their line, called out the number of steps. There are thirteen. The crevice tool went along the edge of each one, and the upholstery tool went over the sofa cushion where Pepper, the beagle, who is not a cat and has made her peace with it, had left a record of her visits. Pepper watched from the lawn and wagged, a dog satisfied that the matter was being handled.

Raj said it was the first vacuum he had ever seen that did not need to be talked into anything. He said it was in the spreadsheet, and then he said it was not, and then he said he would add a tab.

The floor nozzle is slim enough to go under the couch. Priya went under the couch. What came out, I will not describe, except that the twins asked to keep some of it for a study.

The Sash and the Gavel

Here is where Mags arrived with a memo.

The Caucus, which holds that living with a cat is the highest form of human existence, requires that any new appliance be presented to a cat in full sash before it is switched on. Mags had the sash. She also had the ceremonial gavel, which nobody may touch, so it traveled in a velvet bag carried by Doris, who held it as though it were a loaf that might yet rise.

Admiral Biscuit was fetched from his cushion at the mailbox cluster. He did not wake. He was draped over the sash like a pelt, and the ceremony proceeded on the understanding that his silence was a form of speech. The vacuum was kept well away from him, and it stayed unplugged for the length of the ritual, which took eleven minutes.

ORACLE, which Mags had asked to open the proceedings, announced that it had feelings about the agenda, chiefly apprehension about item three, and requested a performance review. It then addressed the twins as Alan and Felicity and the Admiral as the Duke of Lisbon. Mags thanked it and wrote the review request on a numbered memo, which is the highest honor she has.

The sash, I am told, cannot be returned to a sleeping cat without a quorum. So it was draped on the wand of the Rocket, which makes the vacuum an honorary officer of the Caucus, and officers may not be put away in a closet.

Standing Room Only

That settled the storage question. The hand vac clips to the base of the wand, and the whole machine stands on its own, so it was parked in the front hall at No. 7 where the sash could be seen from the street. The twins held a short meeting and agreed to call it the Colonel.

Priya emptied the dust cup into the bin before dinner. It took seconds, with no bag to replace. She noted that the cup is small, 0.31 quarts, and that she would be emptying it often, and she said so without complaint, as one notes that a good umbrella does not cover the whole sidewalk. It plugs into the wall, which she also noted. There is no battery to wait for.

I did the route as usual. Nothing arrived for Brenda again, which I note for the record, as I do every week, with the gravity owed to a domesticated bear who has never once received mail. She sat under the porch at No. 2 and watched the Menons' door as I went by.

The Colonel is standing in the hall tonight, orange and upright, with the sash across its shoulder, an honorary officer at its post.

Signed for, as always,

Wendell