I have had both cats and dogs as pets. There are some profound differences between the two. By feeding and caring for a dog, he licks you and will nuzzle you and look at you as if to say, 'You treat me so well, you must be a God.' Do the same for a cat, and with a flick of the tail, he will look at you as if to say, 'I must be a God, you treat me so well.'
I am currently the pet of two cats, no really; they act as if they own me. Lead me around as if I'm on a leash. One of them, he's been around so long, I barely remember a time when he wasn't, the other, about seven years now. The older one, Mr. Miss-Hell, got his name by being miss-sexed as a kitten, and my young daughter named 'her' Michelle. I don't really know what goes through a young girls mind, or any female mind, for that matter. A cat named ‘Michelle.’ Cat was antisocial, wouldn't even let us pet him. I'm talking about a kitten, with attitude, a bad one. We discovered we had male cat soon after I ran him over with me truck. Run right over his pelvis, busted him up good, but he didn’t die, and the vet fixed him up, for a price. The only cat, and I’ve unfortunately run over three so far, that I was unable to kill. Misnamed, broken pelvis, AND he got neutered while at the vet, did nothing to improve his attitude, maybe even made it worse… I began to believe we were in the presence of an evil being. Because he was so unfriendly, we began calling the cat 'Miss-Hell,' soon after we found him. He was quick with the claws, and never, ever, purred. He would not let us touch or pet him, and he walked around as if he didn’t stink and he wouldn’t run away, even after I squished him! We decided by committee, we would simply add 'Mr.' in front of his already modified name. The cat didn't act any differently, ignored us as usual, until he would run up to one of us, talking while he ran, "My food dish! It's empty, about to pass out from hunger!" I of course, or one of us would get up, only to discover that there was plenty of food, but you could see the bottom of the dish. We would just move the food around some, and satisfied; he would turn, show his ass and begin to eat.
Now the Orange cat, big tom cat, huge, I never really named him. I received him as a kitten from Emily as a going away gift. She was moving to Arizona and with Linda working I was in the middle of my decent into depression. The kind that you do not even know is happening until one day, any day, you wake up, and you’re not there anymore. I will expand on my spiral into personal hell in another paper, this one is about cats. The Orange cat could not stop playing. Hide and attack, play with string and attack, attack attack, it didn’t matter, cat played and clawed, playful claws, not the mean kind like that other animal. By the way, I think the Orange cat also contributed to Mr. Miss-hell’s surly demeanor. As I wrote, we never named the Orange cat, Linda didn’t care, she believed that ALL animals belonged outdoors, and I was in no state of mind to name him and only played with him because he wouldn’t leave me alone. When it was his turn at the knife, the vet bill was for OC, original cat, orange cat, whatever. Cats don’t come when they are called anyway, so what’s the use in giving them any name other than Stir Fry.
Before then, before Linda's passing, our bed time was around ten PM. The cats were accustomed to this, and if we stayed up past bed time, they would let us know. This hasn't changed, I am rarely in bed by that hour though, and the cats have learned that by entering the room I'm in, and jumping on the desk and knocking things off as if they were clumsy, only gets them a lesson in flying. And yes, they DO land on their feet, mostly. Mr. Miss-Hell, or the gray and white cat, was brought into a family of four. Robin moved away first, followed a couple of years later by Emily moving. Between Robin’s exit and Emily’s, the gray cat softened some, in that he would let us touch him, not much or for very long, but progress. One day he tried to purr, by that I mean he let out this gawd awful rattling guttural sound that clearly indicated he was ‘happy.’ He was not very good at purring, and visitors when hearing him, would question us about the health of the animal.
Cats by nature apparently sleep, eat, clean themselves, sleep, eat and constantly want out, or in, or sometimes way too often, make like they want out, go to the door and when it is opened, they run back into the room, and hide. They hide because when I get my hands on them, flying lessons.
From outside, Mr. Miss-Hell will sit at the bay window, and touch the glass with paw, and when he gets my attention makes like he wants to come INSIDE. I go to the door, open it and the cat just sits there! I close the door and begin to walk away and the cat will go ape shit indicating he REALLY, REALLY wants in. Too bad for you, leave me alone, maybe he wants another flying lesson….
Cats actually talk! They do, ask any cat person, even had them tell me, "My cats talk to me, and I understand them! Am I losing my mind?" "No, no, perfectly normal, I wouldn't worry, oh look! I didn't know it was so late, gotta go now, bye!"
My cats, satisfied that they know the fundamentals of flying, wanting my attention, now enter the room and announce that THEY are going to bed, and if I want a good spot....
Interruption. Morning, 06,15,2012.
This morning I went outside to work on my scooter and my OC was standing by the back door. I opened the door for him to go inside, but he turned, flipped his tail and took a couple quick steps away. This is perfectly normal behavior and I thought nothing of it. I went back into the house at 11:00 AM just about an hour, I noticed the orange cat laying in the front yard, in the sun. This is not normal, I approached, and it became obvious that the animal was dead. I thoroughly inspected him, no mauling, good color of tongue, no broken bones and he was not run over, just simply dead, as if he ran out of life, and since the last time I saw him he was acting normally, I cannot assume he was poisoned. Too early in the morning for him to be assaulted by humans and he rarely leaves the yard anyway, I am completely stumped at this. Side note; I am strangely unaffected by the cat’s death, I did not mourn him, I simply buried him in the back, with a small marker. I was extremely upset over the death of my dog, ‘Nala,’ and still am emotional when I think of her.
Bed time for cats, mine at least consist of walking on me up and down, standing on me and looking intently into my face, then unceremoniously plopping down on my chest and cleaning themselves! Lick, lick, slurp, pull and spit. GTFO me you damn cats! Christ on the cross! Can’t you do this BEFORE I get into bed? This reminds me of Linda and something that always bothered her. I am guilty of sometimes farting in the bed, and not always just because I am too lazy or it happens to escape as I attempt to leave the room. Still, I fart. “Kenny! How rude! Why do you have to do that in the bed?” I actually never thought about it…Anyway, it was nothing to her to enter the bathroom while I am brushing my teeth and take her morning sabbatical! Sometimes, and regularly making me want to vomit. We have TWO bathrooms, but she doesn’t take the hint, even when I come right out and say it. So, to eliminate the issue, when I was suspecting that her morning visit was imminent, I would go into the other bath and finish my primping. She actually questioned me about it once! And when I explained it to her, she said she didn’t think her shit stinks, and I should be more tolerant of her bodily functions! I actually Loved, Love that woman, she could always make me laugh and we were rarely if ever angry at each other for any length of time. I truly miss the friend that I could talk about anything with, from politics to UFO’s, and all subjects in-between, then, hop into the sack and get all animal like on each other. We enjoyed each and every mutually agreed upon activity, both public and private. Miss you, Babe, hope to see you again someday!