My cat…

August 3, 2008 at 3:58 PM (Uncategorized) (, )

Yes, unbelievers me, one of the most terrified-of-animals people I know, I once had a cat.

He had an unremarkable name, but he was a great good friend for the time I had him…

I think I was about eleven.

He was a Christmas gift, a grey and white calico that my mother was appalled by and my father’s brother and his wife insisted on giving to me…

The most fun we had was our nightly patrol.   He had learned that I was possesive about my bed, and didn’t want visitors.  But he understood that it was ok to wake me at patrol time.

Sometime in the dark of night…when even my father was sleeping [it off]  My cat would jump to the head of the bed, and bat me on the nose with his declawed front paws…until I woke up…

The rule was, we had to patrol all the rooms on the main floor, except my parents room.   He would look behind to see if I was following (I was), and had learned quite early in our association not to outrace me, or I might sulk.  The end of the vigil was always the back room, with its wall of windows.  And then, he’d stop.  Precisely in the middle of the carpet.  And sit watching anything that might interest a cat that was going on outside.

I would also sit quiet and watch the things that caught my eye…snowglow, reflected by a bit of lamplight.  On a clear night, it was my chance to look up and lose myself watching the stars…not to catalog or understand them…but just examination…

Then, after some ten minutes he would turn and we would head back to my room, where I would permit him to take a spot near my shoulder, sitting on my bed, so I could pet him easily…and then the purring engine started…it was just  enough to get me back to sleep…and he’d slip away and hang out alone until the day began.

He was never taken to the vet for the necessary shots, a job assigned to my alchoholic father that he never completed..(Surprise) so my cat fell seriously ill early, suffered a great deal that my parents and I both had to watch…and then my father did finally make that trip to the vet, to end my cat’s misery…

You aren’t supposed to hate your father, and thank goodness we got things straight and loved each other for the last year he was around, so it *ended* well.

But just writing this post made me realize where the hate began, a genuine hate that would last through the end of my adolescence, to be replaced by pity, and with contempt oddly mixed with concern when I became an adult.

When I realized I wasn’t the only inoccent losing the battle against the chaos in the house.


I’m going to try the pet thing again, within the year, since newhouse allows pets.

But, due to roomates allergies to all pets *except* one particular breed of dog,  it’ll be a schnauser pup….

I’m kinda excited to try it, and in memory of my cat, will be damn watchful to take care of the vet needs of the new housemate…I’ll probably try to get said pup next summer.

This pet will have a safe house.


  1. bridgett said,

    Wow, that really was a buried story — I’ve known you over twenty-five years and I’d never heard about the cat.

  2. imfunny2 said,

    Gawd…’over twenty five years’

    At least you aren’t the friend from sophmore year in ‘high school’ who keeps bringing up that we’ve known each other more than thirty years…

    I hate being this old sometimes. But only sometimes.

  3. bridgett said,

    Really? I feel lucky to be so old. Certainly nothing I was doing at eighteen argued for such an extensive span of years…

  4. Attila the Mom said,

    Aw, what about yorkies? They don’t shed, they don’t dander, terriers just like the shnau….mebbe I can bring mine when I come over to check out the new digs! LOL

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