Crazy Cats and Grandmothers

The matriarch loves the cat.  She does not pet him, she does not attempt to feed him but she talks to him like he's her bosom buddy.  After this morning's drive, I could hear her talking to the animal about her ride to Angus and the visit to the guitar store and how she was going to have a Werther's.  Pumpkin, the cat, an orange tabby, who was a wild farm cat, doesn't seem to mind the company.  He sits with the matriarch for hours on end while she talks to him; she sits in her Lazyboy and he stares at her from her bed.  I have watched them from the doorway and they both seem quite content.  I used to think the matriarch was lonely and wanted to talk to me but she seems to prefer the cat.  She stops talking if I ask her if I may join her.  That's okay.  As long as my mother-in-law is happy, I am too.