We Have Two Cats

We have two cats.  Smokey and Juanita.

Smokey, I know it’s a cliche name.  At least he’s the color of smoke.  Smokey came to us as a foundling.  She was found by our youngest daughter, at or near her work, about 12 or so years ago.  My youngest, Laurie, called me one night and asked if she could give her Mom a kitten for mother’s day.  So in the end, Smokey is here because I answered by saying yes.  I find it amazing that she asked about something so mundane as a kitten since she didn’t bother to tell me she was going to get a tattoo when she was 18 years and 2 days old… she told her mother… kids know who to go to for the yes.  I don’t think she was asking permission however, I think she wanted an ally to help soften the blow when she came home marked forever. 

 

But, then, Laurie had a precedent to follow, my oldest, Karen, did the same thing, 18 years and maybe a day old, told mom but not dad.  When I saw Karen’s tattoo, I offered to pay for having it removed, she declined.  Fine.  Move ahead 15 or 20 years and Karen asks if the removal offer was still valid… NO!

But, to the cat I said yes.  I felt sorry for Susan… you know Susan, the third woman in our household who got a tattoo while she was in Texas with a girlfriend.  She didn’t ask or even tell me she was going to do this.  I guess it’s easier to ask forgiveness than it is permission, but she was over 50 and really didn’t  need my permission.

All this makes me ask, “Just what kind of man am I?  How do my kids see me?  I must be the house ogre.”  So I have three tattooed females in my life and my son.  He is a father’s pride, no tats, no piercings, no Mohawks… he has grown into a fine adult who respects his father.

But, we digress.  Laurie did ask about the cat and I said yes, it’s my fault Smokey is in attendance and ignores me completely lately.

Then there is Juanita.  Juanita came to us via the back porch.  She is named Juanita because she came from a subsidized housing unit near our Massachusetts home.  It is primarily a Spanish community and our neighbor, the cat lady, brought her home as the cat was abandoned when someone moved away from the community.

One fateful day, a decision was made by Susan.  The decision… we need another cat.  Juanita shows up on our front porch.  At this point the cat could stay or the cat could move on, simple, but the cat was hungry and Susan is a pushover and the rest is history as they say.

Fast forward a bunch of years and a move to a new place a long way from home.  We now have two indoor cats.  Prior to our move to Florida these two cats were outdoor cats.  Now they are indoor cats and they made the transition quickly and efficiently and they will now live forever.  Prior to our move to paradise, they were outdoor cats… outdoor cats in our neighborhood don’t live very long thanks to the cars on the street we live on.  Prior to this move we had a new kitten every couple of years as the last one couldn’t out run a car on the North Sewall street.  We will now have these two cats for another 8 years, roughly, based on the life expectancy of an indoor cat.

Fiction:  

Two cats, playing with each other, sleeping with each other knotted up in some cute pile of fur that just sells cat food by the car full.  They come to your bed and on a cold night sleep very near you to keep you warm.  They play with thread, chase a ball, basically make themselves loved and adored. 

 

Truth:   

These two cats don’t even like one another.  Juanita is the alpha cat… Smokey puts the Pussy in Pussy Cat… a real wuss.  They like the one who is feeding them.  Smokey ignores me so perfectly that I am convinced he is deaf… but Susan shakes the Cat Treat box and no matter where he is, he shows up in an instant.  As to coming to bed and keeping us warm… they come to bed when they are hungry, they walk all over you, scratch at your pillow, nuzzle your nose, mostly just depositing cat hair all over the pillow you are trying to sleep on.

Now:  

Susan is visiting a friend in Kissimmee for a couple of days.  I have had to clean the litter box (another great reason for outdoor cats) and I have to feed the cats (I don’t know what smells worse, the canned cat food or the litter box.)  Guess who now thinks I am a little bit of alright.  Yup, Smokey has regained his hearing, he rubs around my ankles, comes when I call him.  The little faker or better yet the little fickle fur ball has, it seems, forgotten his mother already. 

Juanita on occasion gets it in her head to come up and visit me on my desk, always when I am in the middle of something important.  She paces back and forth until I quit whatever I am doing and pet her… then she lays down and allows, prime word, allows me to touch her.  She has one bad habit during these times, she gets rather nasty when she has had enough petting.  The only thing is she doesn’t bother to let me know she has had enough… no, her warning is hissing, making noises like something out of a Stephen King movie and tries to rearrange my fingers and skin.  All of these episodes end the same way.  I try to push her off the desk and she digs in and when she flies off the desk as she inevitably will she takes most of the papers off the desk with her, leaving me, of course, to pick them up.  In a couple of hours she has forgotten all about the last episode and is back for more.

However, there was a time when she actually did something unique and meaningful, it has never happened before or since and her timing was impeccable.  I was engaged in paying the county taxes when Juanita came to visit.  She immediately sat on the tax bill.  In time she left and I picked up the bill to finish the payment.  It was then I noticed that she had left a souvenir for the tax man.  This is tough for me to relate to gentle readers, but I’ll try.  It seems she had just left her litter box and if you can allow me an analogy, she hadn’t uses enough Charmin and left a nasty mark on the tax bill.  I tried to clean up the bill, but, all I ended up doing was making the stain larger.  So I sent it as it was.  Good cat.

It is now 4:25 p.m.  Normal feeding time is 5:00 – 5:30.  Very soon I will feel the truly heartfelt love of my two cats.  I will get the delightful opportunity to inhale canned cat food and since I am a good husband who listens to his wife I will clean the litter box.  Then after a really hot shower, a bath in Lysol and a dip in antibacterial hand sanitizer, I will make my dinner.  

Thus will end my cat duties for the day… I will eventually go to bed and when I get up tomorrow, it starts all over again.  God, I hate those smells.  Do I love the cats?  I have a saying that I am fond of using.  "It is a good thing that cats, dogs and teenagers start out being puppies, kittens and babies, or we would never love them."

Thanks for reading,

Dave