Two Old People and Their Cat

By Patricia White

I started this blog a year ago this month. I was pretty regular for several months and then it was Christmas and I was knee-deep in inserting gift cards into envelopes and straw-bossing some amazing Christmas house decorators. I am the Queen of Excuses these days. For someone who used cloth diapers and has always made everything from scratch, including Valentines, I now use a service for anything we can afford. It no longer floats my boat to do it all myself.  I get joy from just getting out of bed and making it to the coffee pot with or without a cane. When we are not running the streets, hunting and gathering, I have no problem being lazy a large part of the day.  My seventy-six-year old body is not cooperating with my forty-six-year-old mind so I have to settle for entertainment wherever I can get it. I have become an arm-chair shopper rather than a mall rocker. My hubby asks what I want for breakfast and he then fixes it for me. (Bad knees) In return, I ask where he’d like to go for lunch……and so it goes. We needed more and after a lot of thought and consideration we decided it was time for Pet Therapy. 

I got my mind set on a beautiful doll-face Persian around Christmas and had to wait patiently until the end of April to get him. He jetted in from St. Louis all by himself at ten-weeks old and we collected him at a remote cargo location at the airport. The agent first shoved a handmade wood crate at me that housed a big green bird. Nope, not mine. I hate birds. Look again, cargo man! Then the agent found a tiny crate with our little kitten crouched in the back. I peeped inside, our eyes met and I wept!  Come to Mama, I purred. It was like having a baby all over again but without the duck walk and labor. We named him Tiger because he looks like a Tiger. He is an apricot ball of fluff now, quickly losing his stripes, save for his raccoon tail and some facial markings. 

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We bought a fancy bed/house and I made a beautiful little purple crocheted afghan for him but he chooses to sleep under our bed on top of the spare dining room table leaf, naked and cold. He’s not even interested in tearing the afghan apart.  We have purchased one of every fun cat toy there is but he prefers to play with a fat rubber band that says WWJD, a wine cork, a paper bag or small cardboard box. He decides when he will sit in our lap, when he goes to bed and when he goes potty. Just keep his toilet flushed and his dish full of kibbles du 

jour  and he is happy. At four-months old, it is easy to see he is an Alpha Cat. They say cats aren't trainable, but everything is negotiable with Tiger at the sound of the crinkle of a bag of kitty treats. Crinkle, crinkle. 

I'm coming, mommie, I can change!

At six-thirty a.m. T-man jumps up on the bed and pounces in the middle of my chest. He purrs, licks and kisses my face.  He snuggles my neck and meows for me to get up. I adore this kitten so I slowly crawl out of bed and carry him into the den to start the day. Once I open the bedroom door he jumps from my arms to explore the awesome wonders of the parts of our house that have been shut off to him all night.  First stop, the breakfront to check out the ceramic rabbit. Tiger: And, who the hail are you? Me: You crazy cat.  Seeing me settled in my chair, sipping coffee and waking up, he heads back to the bedroom and begins working on my hubby, who in a very short whil­­e comes walking into the den, carrying the cat. Tiger has done his get-your-ass out of bed routine on Mr. Leblanc He wants everyone up and at his disposal. He is funnier than a circus clown.  Well, we think he is funny but you know old people will laugh at anything. He gets away with murder because he can outrun us. I know, right!

And, Tiger is hypo-allergenic too! No Shinola!! No sneezing or itching or runny noses here.  I comb him everyday and tell him how gorgeous he is and that sweet kittens don't bite and that he can change. When he’s not playing hide-n-seek, or trying to lick us with his pointed little teeth, he loves watching TV. He thoroughly enjoyed Wimbledon, moving his head from side to side watching the ball. He turned to look at us periodically with an expression that said, “nice shot, huh?” 

Kitty Poo just about tore our Venetian blinds down so we had to spring for new wood shutters. That's what  pet owners do for their forever-kitty. Right?  It all worked out for the best, because I've been wanting wood shutters for three years anyway. And, Tiger can't climb or swing from these here ones  and get hurt. We open the lower louvers and he crawls through and onto the window sill for sun bathing or frog watching. No telling what he thinks about what's beyond the window pane. Maybe he thinks it's Cat Heaven or Chicago. 

We  feed him warm, pureed chicken breast for dinner every night and supplement it with expensive varieties of dry food for his noshing pleasure during the day. Tiger doesn't go outside because he doesn't know there is an outside. He is definitely a lounge lizard and easier to raise and care for than any other animal we’ve ever owned, or child for that matter. So, we’re really in love with this adorable kitten. In the two and a half months we have had Tiger, I’ve accumulated 157 pictures and 16 videos on my phone. Don’t judge! You have not seen how really fluffy and beautiful he is, like pale orange cotton-candy. But, I’m fixing to throw one last magazine-worthy picture out here  before I sign off.

If you’re not a cat person, read no more………..LOL........He probably doesn't like you either.

                          

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