March, 19 2001
Ironic Essay (more of a satire really)
English 301
My Love of Cats
For as long as I've been alive I've been blessed with the presence of cats, and my living space has never been without a fully independent ball of bouncing fur. Some people will tell you that you're either a cat lover or a cat hater; however, I doubt the people who say such things have ever owned a cat or else my cats have always been unique specimens of the feline species. Now, I've talked with other cat enthusiasts and they always seem to have the same opinion as I: you can't be a cat lover without leaving at least a little room for hate. I suppose it's a hazard of being a cat lover, really, being the love/hate relationship it is. Of course I can't show you what I'm talking about unless I bring some real life examples into the mix. Since all the cat talk is undoubtedly getting a bit dogged and I need to show you that the cat doesn't have my tongue let me elaborate on my point by giving you a personal example.
Currently my life is blessed with four magnificent champions of catdom, three boys: Sam, Chester, Buddy, and a girl, Wickett. They are all unique in their own ways, and they all share the honor of residing in my house and living by my rather cat tolerant rules. The cats, being the animals that they are, don't have much to say on their own behalf. They don't offer many opinions except the occasional "Meow", so they are going
to be completely subject to my opinions and beliefs. Please don't let the following text reflect too badly on your judgment of them; after all, they're just cats and this is their nature as I see it, whether it improves your view of them or degrades it.
Chester, Chester Bing, Chester-Molester (also, requester, trimester, semester and anything else that rhymes with Chester) is an interesting specimen being a very loving animal that is rather shy. He adores anyone who gives him attention; however, since he hides as soon as company arrives, he doesn't get much of that. Lately, he's taken up the delightful habit of eating more food than he should and regurgitating it later for the enjoyment of all. Since stepping in a pile of cold cat puke while trying to navigate to the bathroom, or anywhere else for that matter, is one of my least favorite things to do I've been trying like mad to get him to stop. Yet, despite all my efforts, Chester continues to heave and hurl whenever he deems it necessary to overeat.
Buddy, Butt-Roast, Bootros-M-Golly, Bootros-M, Scooter, The-Special-Needs- Kitty, Tri-pod has only three legs having lost one in a car accident before I ever knew him. Despite his disability, he is a very active member of the cat community. He never takes no for an answer, and his loud echoing voice is often heard any time he's not happy with his situation, which, in buddy's case, is almost ALWAYS! He's got a mean left hook (left being the only option available) and he's been known to lay the smack down if anyone says otherwise. Buddy loves pillows, especially when they're occupied, and he'll steal your pillow or attempt to smother you if you let him; of course, since not letting him usually follows with bites to the arms and hands letting him generally tends to be then popular choice. Being very fond of his teeth (a useful device for a three legged animal) Buddy often chooses a quick bite to remind me to pay attention. He often climbs into my lap when I sit by the computer and he'll purr as I pet him, nap as I type, but as soon as he's ready for more attention I'll (ouch!) get a nip to remind me he's there.
Wickett, Wickums, Wicky, Wicked, Snagle-tooth, Shnickums-Wikums-Badickums is the cutest of the four. Being from a very large inbred Persian family she has a flat face and a rather curious front canine which protrudes from her bottom lip when she 'smiles' at you. Her eyes are about half the size of her head so when you combine the two you end up with a front face that's mostly eyes. Course she tends to keep her eyes lazily half-lidded most of the time so you don't notice the full size of her eyes until she gives me the 'high-beams' (fully-open eyes), which usually means she's interested in what I'm doing, or just me in general. She has a great love of milk, even though cats are lactose intolerant and get very messy intestinal problems whenever they drink it. She will pursue every last drop and doesn't care if the opposing container needs to be tipped, dropped, or broken in the process.
Sam, or Sabbers, Sabby, Samsonite, Samson, Sabbers-Babbers-Pajabers and Fat Ass (lovingly called) weighs in at about 30 pounds of rather sedate feline-flesh. His mannerisms include an overwhelming compulsion to lick himself, or anything sitting in front of him including the other cats and my face at about 2 in the morning. This is something he'll do alone or whenever someone pets him. He also has the obsessive desire to always be a dining member of the family, whether or not it's his dinnertime. Luckily for the other cats, the biggest only being 12 pounds, Sam doesn't have a mean bone in his body, and he refuses to play rough no matter how the other cats badger him. Sam often finds me as soon as the alarm goes off in the morning. Since the other cats aren't as time conscientious they take his cue and begin to play or carry on whenever they hear or see him up and about. Since I like to hit snooze a few times Sam always gets a little frustrated with me and soon he's kneading me into submission with his front paws.
I try my hardest to ignore him and thankfully he's de-clawed, but it still feels like a sumo wrestler is giving me a playful massage. Wickett on the other hand takes a more indirect approach to waking us up. She'll find something we don't want her to do, like climb in the plant near the bed or knock over pictures on the dresser, and cheerfully carry on until we realize that yelling is futile. Chester's approach is calculated and masterfully schemed. He vomits in another room so we can hear the retching, but we don't really know what's being defiled and when we come running to clean his mission is accomplished. Buddy doesn't really need to worry about waking us up since, thanks to his pillow snatching abilities, we're most likely awake already and if not he'll bite an elbow or a head until that does the trick.
The process of eating is so much more exciting when cats are around. They're cunning acrobats, unlike dogs, so they can get at food in places you'd never expect them to get into. Cats often sniff and eat as they please so contaminated food isn't very obvious to detect since it was only nibbled and nosed by the animal. Dogs often leave enough of a mess to indicate tampering. Patient animals, cats will often feign being uninterested in your food, but as soon as your back is turned your meal will be compromised. Well orchestrated and cunningly delivered plans of subterfuge also play a major roll in the capture of vittles. Wickett has been known to stage diversions by batting items from shelves and knocking over anything that can be upset while the others reap the benefits of a previously protected meal while someone goes to investigate. Chester uses his all powerful weapon of disgust and attempts to receive food from owners that previously had appetites. Buddy plays the cripple card, and he'll stand against a wall peering up over his head while whining as though he lost his leg just yesterday. Sam may be fat, but when God handed out the cat-like reflexes, he got a lion's share. He's as fast as a cat half his size and his clawless, yet overly large paws are apt at the grab n' snatch. He'll hit your plate like fuzzy lightning leaving only the smell to remind you of what you were eating.
Finally, there's always something to be said about the mess of hair that a shedding cat leaves in its wake. Now I'll be the first to admit that cat's never seem to stop shedding, and it is my belief that they actually possess the power to determine when, where and how much they shed. I've never known a pair of black pants or a black shirt to escape unscathed and the chairs of our house blossom with matted beauty soon after any cleaning. Wickett and Sam don't really have hair, but rather a fluffy down that doesn't simply fall from their backs; rather, it leaves to dance lazy spirals in the air until finding a receptive nose, mouth, and throat. The fuzzy fluff also congregates in corners where the air currents eddy and die forming small balls of ghostly puff that wait to be stirred into madness by the next passing figure. The option for most cat owners is to simply grin and bare it since the one way to have cats without the mess is to shave your cats bald and I don't recommend that since rats and cats could be close cousins after a shave.
Why do I put up with it? I guess I don't really have a choice. I either live with it or I don't live with cats. That doesn't mean I never get mad, oh, I get REALLY mad but getting mad at a cat is a waste of time. They just look at me like I'm crazy and go on about their business. Just remember, any of you would-be-cat-fanciers out there, if youintend to love a cat, leave just a little room for hate. I'd love to tell you more; but, I just heard some glass shatter (Did I leave a glass of milk out?), my sandwich and Sam have both miraculously disappeared, Buddy is (ouch!) biting my arm and Chester is heaving in the other room with the clean laundry. I lied, leave as much room for hate as you can!
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