Crazy Cat Lady, Chapter Two

Continuing on with the introductions . . .

For about four years we had just the three cats in our house. We had settled into a routine and were pretty happy with how things were going.

In July of 2000, I traveled to NH for a week of visiting with friends. R stayed home to work on some projects. Early in the week, while working outside he heard a strange noise in the woods. He couldn't imagine what kind of creature was making the noise--maybe a bird in distress. He had to go investigate. What he found was a tiny black smudge of a kitten. Reaching out to catch it, the smudge turned around and bit him on the thumb. R hung on, knowing that if he let go he wouldn't get a second chance. He brought the howling dervish into the house to the bathroom. The smudge scooted under the toilet tank and remained there for three days, intermittantly sleeping and howling. By the time that I returned home from NH, Felix had warmed up and calmed down, so when I met him he was playful and engaging. We always say that R caught Felix by the teeth!

Felix's story: The second Christmas that we had Felix, he still was a scamp, getting into all sorts of mischief. I had an old coffee cup that I had brought home from work to wash. It was in a shopping bag on the floor in the corner of the kitchen. I was preparing breakfast. Felix was nosing around. He found the bag and began to investigate. I didn't become alarmed until I saw him stick his head through the bag's handle. At that moment, it seemed like the calm before the storm. I saw disaster happening but was helpless to stop it. I knew that if I rushed at him to remove the bag from his neck, it would spook him. I tried to move slowly towards him, but alas, didn't get there in time. Felix pulled back once and the bag followed him. There was a pause . . . then PANIC! Felix was off, tearing though the house, bag and coffee cup in hot pursuit! It was a neck in neck race for about three laps around the house and then we heard a great shattering noise. All grew quiet as the dust settled. We cautiously searched the reckage. Upstair in the bedroom, we found the tattered remains of the shopping bag, now containing the many pieces of my old coffee cup. No signs of Felix anywhere. After about 15 minutes of searching, we finally found him cowering in the basement. Two hours later he finally emerged, shaken but unharmed.

To be continued . . .

Crazy Cat Lady, Chapter One

First of all, when I started this blog, I was told not to let this all fizzle down to a puddle of mud. I have not been so good at keeping up with it. So I will begin anew with a few introductions.

I indicated in a previous entry that my husband and I have cats. At the risk of sounding, shall I say, eccentric, I will introduce our feline family.

Our oldest is DeeDee. She has been living at this house longer than I have.

Before we were married, I was not a cat person. R was. At the time, Dusty was his feline housemate--a couple of bachelors sharing a pad. R had resigned himself to the idea that after Dusty, he would not have another cat, due to the then disdain that I had for cats. I felt bad about this, so when Dusty died unexpectedly the Spring before we married, I knew I had to get R a cat. A few weeks later, right around his birthday, unbeknownst to me, his mom had brought home a sprout of a kittie as a companion to her own cat--a tough, cranky old bird named Mitzy. Well, that social experiment was a howling failure, quite literally, and R had to intervene. He brought the upstart home, purely as a temporary solution, intending to send her back to her old home. When I got wind of it, I had to convince R that it was already my intention to get him a cat for his birthday. Since he had already bonded with this dainty girl, she may as well stay. That was 13 years ago. The upstart now is DeeDee, queen of the household.

DeeDee's story: Shortly after we were married, one night I was having a vivid dream. I dreamt that R had a nail file and was rubbing my forehead with it. I finally awoke to the realization that DeeDee was licking my forehead. R woke to me yelling out "It's the cat!"

Later on in the year, after we had married, we wanted to get another kitten. R had stopped at our vet's office to ask their advice on another matter, and mentioned that we were hoping to adopt. Well, they pounced on this. They had some kittens available . . . black kittens, siblings, the last of their litter, very cute. R agreed to look at them but wouldn't make a final decision without me. The following day, I stopped by with my mom-in-law to take a look at them. Well, I stood there holding one brother, mom holding the other. The enchantment was complete. They were, to my eye, identical black long-haired kittens. As far as I was concerned, they were a set. Would you buy one shoe, or one glove? And the idea of separating them and leaving one brother behind was impossible. So we have both of them.
Then came the question of what to name them. They were a set, so their names had to be a set. We tried out Amos & Andy, Bert & Ernie, and Gilbert & Sullivan. At the time we were enjoying nightly reruns of the sitcom Home Improvement, so finally Tim & Al it was.

Timmie's Story: The first year after we were married, R was traveling a lot for work. He was usually gone for weeks on end. Being a new bride and in a new home environment, I was suffering a severe case of homesickness and missing my husband. One evening, I was feeling particularly sorry for myself. I was cradling Timmie and crying my lonely heart out. Timmie (our sensitive dreamer) was watching the tears with fascination so much that I ended up laughing despite myself. I felt a whole lot better after that. For some reason, I've always treasured that moment.




Allie's Story: Allie has always been the adventurer of the two. When we first started to let them outside, I would worry for hours while he was gone. One day I heard a commotion down the hill below the house. I could hear turkies in the woods, and I figured that they were having an arguement over something inconsequential, as turkies do. Fifteen or twenty minutes later, I glanced down the hill to see Allie trotting like a prize stallion toward the house. The largest turkey feather clamped in his jaws, like he had plucked it from the bird himself. He was so proud of that thing! Like the Great White Hunter!


To be continued . . .