The cat is psychotic. It has a serious meltdown any time I go away. It is serious when Dearest, who is a dog man from way back, rings me up & says, 'Speak to your cat!' Maybe he just likes watching the cat turn itself inside out around the phone.
From the day the furr ball arrived it would follow me round the house & flop across my feet every time I stood still ~ a highly dangerous occupation my eyesight being what it is. It would sit forlornly & cry if it 'lost' me but my heart belonged to Gyver, our old siamese ~ THE most gorgeous cream with ginger points & vivid blue siamese eyes. My heart broke the day Gyver died. I wept myself silly while trying to be reasonable for the girls, who were beyond all reason. I had no thoughts to spare for a cat that technically belonged to Dino, a love gift from an ex~girl friend, the one no~one had liked.
There I was , exhausted, emotionally beaten, sitting in my chair staring blank~eyed at the t.v screen when a miserable little furr ball crawled into my lap. Issi kept coming until he could lay his head over my heart & there he collapsed, burrowing into me with a deep sigh & a heartbroken purr. If a cat could be said to be grieving Issi was.
Issi is a 'people' cat. He knows Liddy is for playing, Cass (as the weakest link) is to be dominated, Dearest is to be obeyed but for love & grooming he heads straight for me. I'm almost flattered. Did I mention the cat's psychotic?
1 comment:
This is another story so bear with me..
My parents & I are cat people, prefer them over dogs-definitely! Over 20 years ago, when they were living in the city and my mom was feeding the neighborhood strays, my dad noticed a small white kitten in their yard before he left for work (very early-4:30AM). He scooped her up and put her in the shed, where the others were eating. He thought it was odd that they ran away from her when he did that.
After he returned from work and got a better look at her she was a blue-eyed and green-eyed manx kitten, pure white but had either fallen into or been dunked into a bucket of kerosene. He cleaned her up and named her Kerri.
She "got herself into trouble" before she got to the vet to be fixed and one of her kittens, Manxie became my dad's buddy. Kerri was always his baby, Manxie was his buddy. My folks wound up moving out to the country and several years later, a stray dog killed Manxie. Pop was really tore up about it. He lovingly buried Manxie under his favorite tree in their yard.
About a year later, a stray cat showed up in their yard, meowing and howling. When Pop went out, he found this cat sitting where Manxie had been buried and he was howling his head off! Pop thought it was so unusual but came to the conclusion that this cat was a gift for him from God to ease the hurt in his heart. Today, Tommy-Cat is Pop's best friend and protector. His loyalty and love to Pop (and my Mom) is fierce. I've never seen anything like the special relationship that he & Pop have. I swear Pop would give his life for that cat and I know Tommy would for him!
Connie
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