Is this a leap year? Should I be saying 366:3 instead?
For a time in my twenties, Lynne and I lived together with a house full of dogs and her cat. The guy I was dating lived about two hours away. He didn’t have a car, and sometimes a friend would drive him halfway; I’d meet them and take him back to our little town for the weekend. It was on such a day that I was idly walking through a big discount store that was a forerunner of Walmart. I didn’t intend to buy anything; it was just a way to pass the time until the friend and boyfriend arrived.
I absolutely didn’t intend to buy one of the kittens who was with a group of them in the back of the store. These days, I’d never buy a dog or cat when so many need to be adopted and when irresponsible breeders shouldn’t be encouraged. But as ignorant as I was about such things then, even I knew we didn’t need another animal in the household. Still, there was one kitten I couldn’t ignore. He was talking to me, not begging, but demanding, and I held him for a bit and talked back. Finally I returned him to the enclosure and started to walk away. When I looked back, he was hanging by his paws from the top of the metal, as if trying to follow me out.
So Kess left the store with me.
He packed a ton of hilarious personality and bad behavior into his tiny body. He pooped in the plants, kept me up at night, and tried to nurse my throat, meaning I had to sleep holding the covers firmly over my head. He bossed all the other animals around. He was noisy. But all would be forgiven when he’d be adorable and affectionate. When he’d curl up with the dogs for a nap. When he’d eat without a sign of finicky behavior. When he’d chase a toy or lie on his back working a piece of yarn or a ribbon. When he’d bounce around the house en pointe, back arched, slaying imaginary enemies.
And some not so imaginary. One of the features of the wonderful old house we lived in was what we called “well crickets,” probably actually camel crickets. If you’re not familiar with these, go check out this photo at your own risk. The horror of these things is that they look like spiders and jump like crickets. Seriously? A spider that can JUMP AT YOU? And will, because the little bastards NEVER jump away from you. Nothing could send me shrieking from a room like the appearance of what I dubbed “leapers.”
Wouldn’t that be exactly the kind of prey that would fascinate an inquisitive kitten?
I was sitting on my bed one night, working on a lesson plan, when I spied movement across the room. I sucked in my breath: LEAPER! My body chose fright over flight. I sat rigid, hoping it would hop its way out of the room. Kess saw it, too, and dropped to the floor to fix his gaze on it, his dilated pupils driving the blue from his eyes. It jumped toward the door; he stared and slowly crept after it. It jumped again; same reaction. The third time it jumped, it was outside my room! I leaned over and slammed the door. Kess gave me an exasperated look, reached a paw under the door, and brought it back inside.
Stupid cat. He finally killed it when it stopped amusing him, but by then I was another few years closer to thirty-five.
When I was accepted into graduate school, I knew I could take only one animal with me, and that was going to be my dog. Lynne would have kept Kess, but we had some friends who wanted him. He enjoyed a long, happy reign over two human slaves and two Great Danes who devotedly served King Kess. Not a bad life for a discount cat.
Shades of Gnang the Siamese that arrived at the backdoor looking for a place to have her children and lived with us for over 15 years. Loud and loving! As always love your prose posts.
Thank you. Are Siamese the most vocal cats of all? Kess was the only one I ever knew, but Gnang seems to bear out that theory.
Very noisy … especially if you have an unaltered cat in heat. After Gnang’s six kittens were adopted she took a trip to the vet.
Oh, dear.
You made me cackle with that one!
Your Siamese cat is very cute – when I was a little girl one similarly adorable Siamese kitty ripped my hand to shreds, first and only time I have ever had stitches. Coupled with the Siamese cats in Lady and the Tramp I have have always been very suspicious of them … however, I love the song from the movie.
I would say that it was my own dang fault I got ripped up, but I was trying to save him, he really didn’t need it.
See how this project is already helping to evoke heartwarming memories of your own childhood?
yes … let’s see, my bio dad making me stand in front of a pitching machine while it hurled baseballs at me, and the time a cat ripped up my hand. These entries are warming my heart! 🙂
It brings a tiny tear of joy to my eyes.
Kess… was a WILD CHILD. However, he did entertain. Unlike “the boyfriend”.
Yeah. I think that might be only the second time in more than seven years I’ve referred to that one online–the other time being unavoidable in a post about John Lennon’s murder.
So sweet!
And, yes, it is a leap year.
Thanks!
Aww, we had a cat like that when I was growing up, she knew what she wanted and wasn’t shy about going after it. She was part Siamese too, so that explains her amazing vocal skills.
I had to wander over here to see what random musings are taking place!
Wander over any time! You’ve given me so much enjoyment that it’s nice if I can return the favor.
Wow, so how many great stories have you not shared with me over the many years? Or is my memory off again?
I say stick with it up to 365:366.
It’s your memory. I KNOW I’ve told you about Kess and the Great Danes. And the Leaper.
And they say we have scary bugs in Australia!
I’d be glad to export our Leapers to you, but it would probably wreck your entire ecosystem, so I guess I’d better not.
Every Siamese I’ve ever been owned by has been as loud and vocal as Julia Sugarbaker. It’s a trait of the breed and one of the reasons I love them—which is odd coming from someone like me who loves, craves, and needs silence.
I can do without the leapers, though. (LEAPERS! would be a good horror movie title.)
Yes–I would take a noisy cat over a jumping spider ANY day.