Cat Story

                                                                
                                                                  
   for Kasey     (just in case he. . . .)           
                                                           
                                                          
   Someone knocking on our mobile home's front door.
I, being nearest, responded; Janice, soon, to my             
right, slightly behind.  Two women--one we knew,
each holding a kitten: a totally black male and a             
black-and-white female with unusual markings.  We
were asked if we'd be willing to adopt two kittens.
Mainly because our financial situation at that time
was tenuous, I told them no.  Some days later Janice
saw those kittens climbing a tree.  I do not know if
they were born outside, but they were allowed to be
outside.  We had had two cats separately.  We didn't
allow either to roam outside.                        
   Janice's parents would occasionally drive down 
from Wisconsin or Virginia to visit us in Gainesville,
Florida.  Either during or close upon those days, a
visit from them was in progress.  On the day before   
they would be leaving, Janice came upon the female
kitten sitting alone in the driveway by the mobile  
home of the woman we knew.  That woman, even   
though she really wasn't able to, tried to help any stray
cat.  Janice knew both that kitten and her brother 
were not in good health.  It could be her brother had         
already died.  Anyway, Janice picked up the female   
kitten and brought her home.  I wasn't in favor of  
keeping her, but we did.  Janice named her (???).
We took her to a vet.  She was given some shots, and
we were given some medicine to give to her.  Doing
the latter was not easy, but we did get her back to
reasonably good health.                                 
   Our TV was near our mo-ho's front door, and one   
day (somewhile later) our bigger but still a kitten   
cat decided to leap from the top of the TV onto the
top of the then open front door.  So there she was,
balancing and pacing, afraid to jump down.  I had
to get the step stool, snatch her from the door,    
and place her/ someplace safe.  Over a period of    
months/ this became an annoying routine.  Finally,
after our home had been moved to a different park,
Janice said she didn't want (???) getting up there
anymore, but moving the TV was not an option.  We
kept the door closed.                                     
   When Judge Wopner presided on The People's Court
and cases came up involving cats, the litigants lost
every time.  In California cats were officially     
wild animals.  The last cat we owned; or, rather,
owned us, was definitely feral.  And you can give a
cat any name you want.  It won't care.  A cat does
not (so far as I've seen) react to you when you use
a name toward it.  It might react though if you get
too loud (as often happens in arguments).  We had a
washer and dryer in our home, and Janice and I were
spattin' 'bout sumpin' and/ had I not looked down
and quickly gotten Janice and myself to lower our
voices, the cat would have attacked Janice and me
also maybe.  There was a day it did attack me--I
am not sure why, and tore up my left calf.  After
that incident I carried my walking stick with me
whenever I was moving around in our mo-ho.  Months
later, after Janice had had several strokes but
refused to see a doctor and I was unable to get the
only general practitioner in Gainesville she did
like to accept her as a patient again because his
patient load prevented it, and she had me going to
McDonald's every day to buy her a cheeseburger,
having supposedly come to disliking the way I was
cooking things, she was sitting in her recliner
and I was by the front door.  We were conversing.
As I was about to go out to do one thing, I pulled
the door open.  We continued conversing, and the
one thing led to a possible two things.  Meanwhile
the cat, blocked from my view because the door was/
between me and it, quietly got on top of the TV.
The possibility of doing two things caused me to
change my mind about going out at that time.  I
shut the door and started walking towards my den,
not knowing the cat had become enraged.  That time
she scratched up my right leg.  I rushed to the
restroom by the den and cleaned up, having told
myself:  That's it.  This cat is history.  It took
a few days, but I had animal control come out and/
take her away.  Janice, of course, was devastated,
even though when the cat was a kitten it daily had
scratched her arms, and even though we physically
were no longer capable of properly/ maintaining a 
pet.  She called me a sissy, or something similar.
We got nasty with each other.  I think I tried to
explain and say I was sorry.  She said: "No you're
not.  I said: "Okay, I'm not.  I'm damn glad."  
She said: "I thought so."                              
                                                    
                                                 
                                                     
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[ About five weeks after 37 years of our marriage
   of companionship, Janice passed.  That was in
   July of 2002.  There is a somewhat tragic tale
   in all of this, but it is irrelevant to the   
   memoir above. ]                                   
                                                       
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Copyright © 2007 Brian A. J. Salchert          
                                                    
                                                       
See directory2007 in Catmap.



 
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