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Felis Catus… April 30, 2011

Posted by Jeff in Uncategorized.
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…is your taxonomic nomenclature; an endothermic quadruped, carnivorous by nature…

Sorry.

This is about el gato negro, une chat noir… my little black kitty. She’s a Halloween cat, born on the last day of October. All black except for a small white patch on her chest, shorthair, with the most brilliant green eyes. I think she may be the Devil’s Feline. I’m training her to ride on my shoulder, like a witch’s familiar. She’s a wild child, totally fearless even towards me. Some evidence of that can be seen in her photo in one of my previous posts where she’s hanging out in a tree. Literally.

You know how most pet owners will say, especially about dogs, “He won’t bite”? I have to warn people that, yes, she does bite. I named her C.J., after my favorite female author.

When I get home from work, I leave the front door open so she can roll around in the grass, while I do some minor chores: washing up, doing the morning dishes, prepping the coffeepot for tomorrow, etc. A couple of months ago while I was doing that, I heard a commotion; a medium to large dog barking right outside the door. When I rushed to the door, I was greeted with the sight of a young woman holding her mastiff-type dog, straining at the leash, while my little C.J. was advancing to the attack: stiff-legged, back arched, ears laid back, tail and fur fluffed out to maximum, in full DefCon 4 mode, crab-walking towards the dog. Nevermind the 10 to 1 size disadvantage, this dog must perish! I stood there for a moment in surprise and admiration of this tableau, then the young lady nervously blurted out, “I don’t think I can control him.” I then stepped in and scooped up my cat and carried her to safety. As I said, totally fearless. I lavishly praised her for doing such a magnificent job, to which she fully agreed.

The other day, same scenario: door open, her in the grass, me in the kitchen. Just as I walked out front to check on her, a squirrel came around the corner, within about four feet of her. Bam! Squirrel lights the afterburners, cat showing redshift, approaching 0.6 C. Down the street in a split second, and the only reason the squirrel survived is that it was a slightly better tree climber than she is. What does she think she is, a dog? I was laughing, but at the same time concerned, because if she would have mixed it up with the rodent, she stood a chance of getting rabies. And then all squirrels would have to die. Not just one hundred squirrels, or one thousand, but all squirrels…everywhere.

All she does is bite; nevertheless, she’s a good kitty, and I wouldn’t trade her in for a mule or a more fuel-efficient car.

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