Sunday, November 10, 2002
Today we are reminiscing about cats that I have known. Excluding my own perfect babies, of course.
Let us begin with Mungo and Teaser. Mungojerrie and Rumpleteaser, I mean. They are, of course, named after the feline hellions of TS Eliot fame. Teaser does not live up to his name, since he is an enormous fraidy cat. Mungo, however, is quite deserving of his moniker. You see, he enjoys leaving his residence. He is supposed to be an indoor cat. But for a cat of his size (he is a hefty Siamese, although not nearly as hefty as my Izzy), he is remarkably quick and remarkably sneaky. He can hide behind the most unlikely things, like motes of dust on the floor, and then when you least expect it he will charge out of hiding and make a break for the door.
Then there is Rugby, the Abyssinian. I knew him as a kitten. He is a cat now, but I have not seen him in quite some time. Rugby, you know, like the sport. I suppose that he is violent and insane. Like the sport.
There is Dusty, feline insanity extraordinaire. The most schizo cat I have ever known. He can be cuddly and purring one moment, clawing and dashing madly about the next. Some may say that all cats are like this, but I beg to differ. Dusty is quite unique in his craziness.
Then there is Rachel, a gray cat with enormously fluffy fur. She loves to rub foreheads with people. If you put your head anywhere near her, she will dash over and begin rubbing her little face on yours. I have heard that other cats enjoy this manner of tactile communication, but none of mine ever have, so I find it rather novel and endearing.
Then there is Cat-who-gets-high, called by me Bob, although that is probably not his name. I have catmint in my front yard, you see, and the local cats enjoy taking advantage of this planting. One in particular, Bob, used to come by rather often. It would not be unusual to come home and find Bob lying on his back in the middle of the catmint, his eyes half-closed, a blissfully stoned expression on his be-whiskered face.
Then there are the Gay-cats-around-the-corner, whom I have only seen once or twice. They are cats who live around the corner from me. They are male cats. They enjoy each other's company. This is not a platonic feline relationship. Not that there's anything wrong with it, of course. But, you see, I do not know their names or anysuchathing. So they are the Gay-cats-around-the-corner.
Then there are the Baker cats. This is a group of cats of indeterminate number and breed. If I see an unknown cat in the neighborhood, it is standing policy to assume that it is a Baker cat. I am pretty sure that one of them is calico, but other than that I have no definite knowledge as to the exact composition of their population.
Then we have Curtis. Curtis is the fattest cat I have ever known. He was named after Curtis Martin, the football player, and I believe that he may have been attempting to reach the weight of his namesake. But quite seriously, he had an eating disorder. He would eat anything and everything, and he would always be eating. He had no neck. I am serious. This was a cat who was so fat that his body just melded into his head, and he had no visible neck. It was incredible. The last time I heard from him, he was living with a family who were trying to attend to his special dietary needs, and he was losing some weight. But the last time I saw him, he was the most impressively overweight cat I have ever seen.
There are the Current Vet Cats. One of them is named Boo, and is a tiny, adorable little black kitten. I forget the name of the other one at the moment. They both live at the vet's office. They make their living poking their curious little noses into the cat carriers of the patients, occasionally annoying, but usually calming the inhabitants.
There is the Cat-who-used-to-hang-out-in-the-middle-school. This was a gray cat with some Persian ancestry evident in his coat and in his build. This particular cat used to come into the middle school in the winter. Walking through the hallways, you could often come across him, sauntering easily around the building as though he owned it. This cat was greeted with delight by myself and other cat lovers in the school, including the principal, who enjoyed his presence. Students who were allergy-sufferers, alas, were not able to appreciate the school cat as much. I am not sure what happened to him, but I believe that his family began keeping him indoors during the winter.
Then there is Razz. I forget if his name was Razzmatazz or Razzledazzle or what, but I know that he is called Razz. He is a beautiful blue point Siamese with a gloriously long nose and he is so sweet!! I met him when I went to the farm to get my babies. He was a very, very lovey cat. We had a cat carrier with us, and when we set it on the floor and opened it, he clambered right in and sat down. We had a job of it, getting him out again when it was time to leave. I wanted to take him with us, and since he seemed set on going with us, you would think that it was a done deal. Alas, it was not meant to be. We only got the kittens, and all grown cats had to stay. Not that the kittens were at all a bad thing, because kittens are infreakingcredible. But Razz was wonderous as well.
Then there is the Cat-with-the-jowls, who also lived on the farm. He had jowls. I am not kidding. He is the only cat I have ever seen, or even heard of, who has jowls. It was impressive. He was a Siamese, but he was almost entirely dark blue-gray. He was very large and really was quite a majestic-looking animal, except for the jowls, which were extraordinarily startling to see on a cat, and which were really somewhat ridiculous-looking.
Then there's the Deaf Cat. The Deaf Cat used to live somewhere in my neighborhood. I think he lived with my next door neighbors who have since moved away. He used to come over to my backyard and sit on my back deck. We knew that he was deaf because if you said anything to him he would not heed you at all, not even giving you a flick of an ear. But if you stomped a little on the deck he would whip around and glare at you, because he could feel that even if he couldn't hear it. He was black and white.
There are more cats, but my attention span is rather miniscule tonight, so we will end this little period of reminisence. Because I can no longer pay attention to it. Sigh.
Here are some names for cats that I enjoy:
Mr. Jumbly Pin
The Oyster Cat
Ulysses the Intrepid Kitten
General Horatio Gartersnakerus
Zig the Zag
Mr. Mistoffelees (sp?)
Tiberius Othello Spidercrunch
and, of course
The Feline Anarchist (he could be called Ani. Or Fani, if he was a she)
That's the sum of it for tonight.