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Not Much of a Cat Person...

Saturday, October 31, 2015

I had some time to kill on Halloween evening. 
I love that phrase, "time to kill." 
As if unstructured time were the enemy, instead of one's best friend.
I love having time to kill. It doesn't happen very often for me. I'd taken Liam to his high school for two performances of a play he's in, and I was planning to attend the late show.

So I went to Apex Tru-Value Hardware to buy some peanuts and sunflower for the birds. And there I fell into conversation with someone I recognized. We figured out that he'd been facilities manager at a venue where The Rain Crows had held concerts. We yakked and yakked. And over his shoulder, I could see this little bitty cat. She was walking back and forth on the feed loading dock in a kind of agitated way. 

"Excuse me," I said to my new friend Eric. "This little cat wants to be in on the conversation. Let's walk over and include her."


She purred and rubbed her head around. 

She held up one paw to her breast, like a squirrel. Ohhh my gawrsh.

I stroked her head and pulled on her little ears. "This is Simba," Eric said.
"She drools when you pet her." 

And yep, she was drooling, copiously. The paw kneading, coupled with drooling, intrigued me. I wondered if she associated people and lavish petting with comfort, such as she'd have gotten when she was a kitten, nursing. And maybe kneading her paws, as she did when she was a nursing kitten, made her drool. I dunno. Whatever the neural pathways that made her drool when I loved on her, it was durn cute.

 I was enchanted by this little torti-tabby. I had known it was a female from the get-go, because tortoise-shell coloration is sex-linked. Unusual, and very beautiful, to see it overlain on tabby striping. I really like tabbies. They tend to be super sweet and affable. 

Anyone who reads this blog knows I am a dog person. But if she did not make my eyes itch and my nose run; if there weren't the litterbox thing to deal with, I would have gladly bundled this sweet little number in my arms and taken her home. Chet...well, we'd have worked it out with Chet.  I mean, look at those seaglass eyes! That sweet face! That paw....that drool... But I knew that would make Rita sad. Every day Rita calls the loading dock cats into her office and feeds them the best cat food. Cats with a job. Mousers. The only birds they're going to catch here are house sparrows. That's OK by me. 

Reluctantly, I wound up the conversation with Eric and Simba and drove a short way to the wonderful Marietta Bicycle and Walking Trail. I hadn't gone 50 feet when this little number came hurrying out from under a shrub. I smiled at the superstition about a black cat crossing one's path. It was Halloween, after all! 

It just felt like marvelous luck to me.

OK, Kitteh. What's going on here? Is this Make Zick a Cat Person Day?

 I got the memo from Simba just in time to meet you. Please note my just-washed mittens and tuxedo. Got any room in your car? Wait! Must you be going? 

Yes. I must. You are adorable, but I, Birdwoman, cannot walk in the door with a kitteh. They'd call the nutwagon. Which would come careening around the corner on two wheels and bundle me away.

I proceeded toward the Ohio River, looking for my people.
Ah. That's more like it. 

We heard you were consorting with cats??

Wak wak wak wak wak!!

Seriously, Zick. You feelin' OK? C'mere. Lemme feel your forehead.

I'm OK. Really. It was a momentary, never to be repeated perturbation.

Righto. Dusk's coming, you know, no offense, but we must be moving on toward the roost. Sure you're OK?

Zick. Get a grip. Those were cats. 

I know. I know. I'll be OK. Gotta walk it off. 


Torties. Yaaas.

Cats are intelligent, strong-willed, complex, independent-minded (and beautiful)... just like I like my women! ;-)
Dogs are compliant, predictable, blindly obedient & loyal, and sometimes noisy, like too many American voters that scare me.
That is all. (...let the debate begin)

That is just the weirdest thing. I'm currently adding a new cat to the household, formerly named Simba, and a big-time drooler, but with his head tilted to one side. Neighbor doesn't want him anymore. The best little orange and white kitty you ever saw, but my other two gingers are not wanting to share the love, so it's been a slow process.

By the way, as the weeks have gone on and Li'l Guy (new name) gets plenty of love, the drooling has stopped.

Welcome to the fancy. We knew you'd come around.

I'm not a cat person either, because of allergies and because I am a bird person. I see what the feral cat do to birds in my backyard, and so I have learned to dislike the species in general. However. Every once in a while I meet a cat (usually a working cat -- mousers at the local seed and garden store and the farm I buy organic produce from) that has a likable personality and that I feel affection for. I think that cats need a "job" to bring out the best in them. Left to their own devices, trouble can ensue.

Love it :-D

I am both--a dog AND a cat person. They are different in so many ways--dogs are clearly domesticated from thousands of years ago. Cats--well, maybe domesticated yesterday. Or so it seems. I relate to our dog and our cats differently.
Your post got me thinking of several things--one is the classic riff George Carlin did on dogs and cats. It's worth a look on YouTube.
Also, there's the cute wall plaque--In a cat's eyes, all things belong to cats.
And finally, the expression--dogs have masters; cats have staff.
Yup--that sums it up.
Give me BOTH.

We have house cats. We don't let them out, however, Ozz sneaks between our feet and makes a great escape once in awhile.
He runs up the sidewalk and stops for you to catch up.
The idea of outdoors seems to be better than the experience.

Hey, cat's are people too! I love working cats at businesses. Granville Feed Mill in Newark has a huge, extremely friendly orange cat as their official greeter. I have a tortie that wormed her little street-living, sea-green-eyed soul into my life. She definitely has catitude. One story has it that while she was living on the streets in Buckeye Lake, a man drove her to Reynoldsburg and "dropped her off", several weeks later she shows up again in 'her' neighborhood at Buckeye Lake, deathly thin and bedraggled, presumably from having trekked all that distance back home - to her litter of kits. When the family/man that was remotely associated with her moved house and left her behind, I took her in. The vet who spayed her told me that certainly she has had numerous litters and estimated her age at only two years old, poor thing! She has not set paw or whisker outside since taking up residence with me....she's a lovely little roommate. :-)

And the beguiling begins


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