About Cats
I'm not crazy about cats. I don't mean I hate them. I love animals. Cats just aren't my favorite animal. They seem to like me though. When I visit homes that have cats, they usually end up sitting in my lap. I love that. As long as they belong to someone else, I guess I like cats. I just don't like them in my house climbing on kitchen counters and tables. Years ago my ex-husband wanted a cat and his cat had a nasty habit of barfing on my carpet and furniture. I'm not crazy about cats. There were barn cats on our farm when I was growing up. But they were mostly feral and unapproachable. Except for one ugly cat that jumped out of the haymow one day and used my head for a platform to the ground. Imagine claws in your scalp from a surprise attack from above. That could be the basis of why I'm not crazy about cats.
The problem is that our neighborhood is over run with tame and wild cats. And this property seems to draw more then our share of them. Maybe it's the high deck, or hubby's trailer that sits out by the garage. Each gives a different high point in which to view the neighborhood. One of the wild cats is a black and white male who seems to be much too popular with the opposite sex. Hence more cats all the time. I've taken a dislike to this fellow and I try to interrupt his business, when it's in our yard, every chance I get. I know it's a total wasted effort, but...... (guilty little secret) it's fun. (I'll blame my grandson, he started it.)
A couple days ago I was headed out to lunch with friends and right there on the sidewalk, between the house and the garage, was Mr and one of his Mrs. She was making a false effort to crawl away and they were facing away from me. I got closer and then stomped and screeched. Well Fudge! They just moved forward a bit and continued their shameful public display. So I got more aggressive with the stomping right behind them. She took off and that male cat turned to me. Hackles straight up and crouched in attack mode. Which surprised me. He'd always run before, and I'd never been this close.
I was even more surprised when I realized this feisty cat only had one eye. The missing eye was not matted shut. There was a scar across his nose and up into his cheek that crossed the missing eye. It was not his only scar. It had healed a long time ago and I was faced with an old survivor of many battles. We stared each other down and then he turned with his back to me, and with tail up, just ambled away while I stood in awe.
I went on to lunch with my friends and temporarily forgot about him. But now he's sitting on the rail of our deck watching his domain and I have to admit, my attitude toward the dude has
changed. I'm thinking of calling him Feisty. The name fits. OH GOOD GRIEF! I'd better watch out or I'll find myself feeding him. And, I'm not crazy about cats.
The problem is that our neighborhood is over run with tame and wild cats. And this property seems to draw more then our share of them. Maybe it's the high deck, or hubby's trailer that sits out by the garage. Each gives a different high point in which to view the neighborhood. One of the wild cats is a black and white male who seems to be much too popular with the opposite sex. Hence more cats all the time. I've taken a dislike to this fellow and I try to interrupt his business, when it's in our yard, every chance I get. I know it's a total wasted effort, but...... (guilty little secret) it's fun. (I'll blame my grandson, he started it.)
A couple days ago I was headed out to lunch with friends and right there on the sidewalk, between the house and the garage, was Mr and one of his Mrs. She was making a false effort to crawl away and they were facing away from me. I got closer and then stomped and screeched. Well Fudge! They just moved forward a bit and continued their shameful public display. So I got more aggressive with the stomping right behind them. She took off and that male cat turned to me. Hackles straight up and crouched in attack mode. Which surprised me. He'd always run before, and I'd never been this close.
I was even more surprised when I realized this feisty cat only had one eye. The missing eye was not matted shut. There was a scar across his nose and up into his cheek that crossed the missing eye. It was not his only scar. It had healed a long time ago and I was faced with an old survivor of many battles. We stared each other down and then he turned with his back to me, and with tail up, just ambled away while I stood in awe.
I went on to lunch with my friends and temporarily forgot about him. But now he's sitting on the rail of our deck watching his domain and I have to admit, my attitude toward the dude has
changed. I'm thinking of calling him Feisty. The name fits. OH GOOD GRIEF! I'd better watch out or I'll find myself feeding him. And, I'm not crazy about cats.
posted by LeeAnn | 2:03 PM
5 Comments:
This cat sounds like Greebo. A feline character from Terry Pratchett's disc world series.
a pretty good pic (fan art) can be seen here: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/3/37/Greebo.jpg
It's not just the missing eye. Greebo is quite the "ladies cat". and known for fighting anything that moves.
Just a softy for the "rogue" type male aren't you?
Tell me LeeAnn. Read a lot of "bodice rippers" romance novels?
:-)
Rabbitt
Rabbitt, I've never heard them called that! But no, I think I outgrew the romance novels a long time ago. Not sure I even remember what the word means.
My first wife read them and used the term bodice rippers because that seems to be what there was a lot of in the stories. :-)
Not that I ever read them but she would read me passages every so often.
WOW, never too old to learn something every day.
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