Quintessential Me

Cat tales

I cannot claim to be one of those people who dislike animals although I do question the sanity of anyone who has more animals than an eager Catholic has children. Even still though, I have attempted to stifle my wife's yearning for pets. We once "owned" a stray that took to illness, and, without attempting a pun, the situation was very short lived. While the situation was regrettable, the cat had proved friendly and relatively care-free. An outdoor cat had been almost ideal.

My wife itched to get another pet. Her first attempt was a Chihuahua. If there are people who can house-break dogs, it was quickly apparent that we are not among them. Many times we took the puppy outside, and it played gleefully. After variable amounts of time ranging from fifteen minutes to an hour, we would decide that the dog didn't have to go and come inside. At that moment some inexplicable and seemingly hard-wired switch would flip in the little dogs brain; she would immediately charge towards any carpeted area and go. We had a choice. We could attempt to ignore murderous impulses to punish the dog- a seemingly daunting task as each failure at training compounded our frustration, or we could place the Chihuahua up for adoption.

Anticipating failure, we gave the dog to someone with large amounts of dog-training experience. This failure of the pet to be endearing briefly held my wife at bay. The pet had not proved to be easy to love. It filled none of the reasons one gets a pet. If she thought that our "baby" would be occupied and play with the dog, the Chihuahua proved to play too roughly. The baby both loved and feared the dog. The only thing the dog did do was create an immense amount of frustrating, resentful work. The guilt we felt about sending the puppy packing was quickly assuaged immediately by the increased sense of peace in our home. Confident that we, although both of us had grown up with pets, would be a pet-free home, I was satisfied.

If my fears that Shana would want a pet had been allayed, they were mistakenly so. One day while petitioning my wife to take a look at something (I often feel this way, that to ask her to take an interest in something that I am interested in or amused by is a terrible mistake sure to disappoint me), she quickly said, "I have something I want you to look at."If her lack of enjoyment in my curiosities and interests was ever troubling, it was just as unsettling to have her respond with a bold and challenging assertion. She nodded toward the newspaper unfolded to reveal the classified ads.

If I have a fault, it is that I am quite often a passive individual. On occasion Shana takes me out of my comfort zone and places me where I ought to be. Expecting the employment section, my nervousness increased when I realized what she had circled, "Free cats to good homes..."After spending a few moments attempting to gently negotiate a no-cat-household, I found myself beleaguered. I, against one I love, was cornered. Being allergic was immediately countered with an interesting truth; my parents had indeed once had a cat albeit very briefly. The cat had been a beautiful Siamese that my mother had taken off the hands of one of her coworkers. While I liked Hermes, my parents had decided that allergies and Asthma would be unwise companions over time.

Incrementally she won the argument. "Let's just go look" was the first and most terrible petition. Each subsequent event would only culminate in a disastrous chain of events. Each event led to another event in which the denial would become harder and more heartless.

Foolishly acceding I consented to "look." Resigning myself to the hope that she would not see a cat she liked- and thus permit me to work on her over time, I was deluded. With the subtle battle lost, I had already lost their. We arrived at the cat lady's house. It was clean. It didn't smell of cats. Both were terrible blows. If her hygiene and her house's cleanliness had been substandard, my wife, herself, would probably be repulsed and abandon the idea. (Although here slept a small risk- that this situation could backfire as well if she deems the cats need rescuing).

The cat lady seemed nice and we were directed to several cats. If I remember accurately, she described one as mean. This one was clearly out of the question. Next was a cat so ugly it was cute. It had long hair. It was friendly. My wife wanted it. Objecting I said that it had long hair, and as such was more likely to inflame my allergies. I believe this is true about animals in general.

But this was only a part of the equation. The cat was beyond friendly. It was needy. This is the reason that the Chihuahua was doomed in our house. I suggested the prettiest cat of the bunch. The cat had short hair and was friendly but not excessively so. We agreed to return with Wal-mart supplies including a pet carrier. It was a concession, but it was also a victory.

Returning home with a kitty that clearly objected to being in a carrier, we found our daughter elated. This excitement has slowly dwindled but never died out. The best description would be to say that she annoys the cat. The line between cruel and annoying is one that she manages blur. Initially we tried to teach her to be gentle, but it has slowly progressed to "Leave the cat ALONE!" The other common refrains are "be nice" and "be gentle." Recently she attempted to sit on the cat. The cat endures the torture with an unbelievable amount of tolerance.

All cats must be named and my wife immediately disliked the original christening. My wife and I have a daunting inability to agree on names. The cat is female, so "Ron" for Ronald Reagan is out. Shana has already claimed the name "Reagan" for any girl we might have in the future. For some reason I really wanted to have a Republican cat. Reagan was also called Dutch and he played the "Gipper," but Gipper never left my mouth. Dutch... Dutchess... Duchess.

I would have spelled it incorrectly to credit Reagan. My wife would spell it correctly. Given that we both know what spawned the name, we spelled it properly. A cat, given such a proper and refined name, would usually inspire a spoiled and fluffed feline starring in a cat food commercial. Duchess is, however, a bundle of random energy often suddenly leaping into motion and moving at lightning speed. She is agile but not refined. She is however quite content to occasionally sit in your lap and rest. She is entertaining.

The lady from whom we acquired the cat said the cat was a rare and sought after breed. Duchess is a "Mongolian Leopard Cat," or, as the veterinarian says, she is a standard American Short Hair. I'm still debating on whether the cat lady was out of her mind or such a cat lover that she would lie to deliver the cat a good home. My wife is confident that the lady is out of her mind.

The cat lady informed us prior to getting the cat that she would call us in two weeks to check up the cat. This sounded obsessive but ok. When we missed her call the next day, we noted the number and decided to no answer. It has now been in the neighborhood of three weeks, and we've already had the cat "fixed," so it seems fair to say that we're keeping the cat. If allergies prove torrential, we'll see if Mollo wants to make a Trip to east Texas to pick up her new pet. ;-)

posted by mokru @ 1:37 PM