Mothering Sunday was here. That meant it was mid-March, and Beaumont, a wee black bowtie-wearing housecat, and his best friend Sigmund, a house spider, were eager for spring. The flowers were starting to bloom, and the sun shone warmly across the earth. Life was returning once more. Miss Sally was out in the garden, kneeling by the flower beds as she worked to prepare them for spring. She always loved growing an assortment of wildflowers, which Sigmund particularly loved because they brought all sorts of tasty snacks for him. Especially the winged sort, his favourite. Beaumont watched from the window as Miss Sally stood up and went into the greenhouse. Beaumont followed, Sigmund catching a ride on his head. Beaumont peered inside, curious. There Miss Sally sat, holding a small pot of dainty pale blue flowers. Forget-Me-Nots. 

Beaumont turned to Sigmund. 

“Miss Sally looks so sad with those flowers. I thought they were her favourites,” he meowed. “Doesn’t Mr. Thomas always bring her some every spring?”

“Yes, methinks so,” Sigmund replied. He tapped a foot to his mandible as he pondered. “Methinks she’s lonely. It’s Motherin’ Sunday, Mother’s Day, so it is.”

“I think you might be right. We should get her a whole bunch of Forget-Me-Nots. Mr. Thomas would have more. That would cheer her up, I think!” replied Beaumont excitedly. “She may not have any children of her own to bring her flowers for Mothering Sunday, but we sure can! She is always in my thoughts, that’s for certain. She’s my mother.”

“We’ll gets her a whole bunch, as many as we can be gettin’,” Sigmund chimed. 

Beaumont was on a mission. He took off down the road toward Mr. Thomas’s farm, adrenaline from his excitement running through him. He meowed and pawed at Mr. Thomas’s door until it opened. Mr. Thomas laughed as Beaumont spun around, trying to get him to follow. Finally, he did, jogging behind the cat as they went. Beaumont, with Sigmund still perched on his head, meowed at the door of Mr. Thomas’s greenhouse, prompting him to open the door. In Beaumont pranced. He scanned the room. Then, the rows of little blue Forget-Me-Nots caught his eye. He jumped up, again meowing. Mr. Thomas went over, raising an eyebrow at the cat. Beaumont danced around, then nodded toward Miss Sally’s house. 

It took several minutes of charades for Mr. Thomas to understand what Beaumont meant, but he again laughed and got to work. He grabbed the waggon cart from the corner of the greenhouse shed and began filling it up with as many of the flowers as he could fit. Beaumont led the way back to Miss Sally’s, racing to get home to her. Sigmund caught a ride among the flowers. 

Mr. Thomas could hardly keep up!

Miss Sally, having been lost in a daydream, looked up startled when she heard the commotion. She stood up, putting down the small pot of the flowers she had been holding and contemplating, and went quickly outside. Beaumont beamed as he brushed up against her legs, then meowed gleefully as Mr. Thomas arrived, panting, with the cart of Forget-Me-Nots in tow. Both he and Miss Sally laughed. She went over to them, glancing back at Beaumont. He followed her. She scooped him up into her arms, giving him scratches under the chin in her thanks. They indeed brightened her day.

 Mr. Thomas handed her a pot of them, then smiled comfortingly as he gently took her hand. Beaumont was her family, and Beaumont and Mr. Thomas were both her greatest joys. These flowers reminded her of that. They celebrated Miss Sally for being a mother figure to Beaumont, and that was enough. The Forget-Me-Nots reminded her of the loyalty, love, and faithfulness of Mr. Thomas, and indeed of her sweet, beloved Beaumont.