Cats

I've been lucky to have a lot of pets in my life – predominantly dogs, but we did have a cat once for a few years as I was growing up. My family seemed to get the goofballs of the animal world. I’m not saying that it was because my family was a bunch of goofballs either, because that would get me pummelled at our next get together. Those of you that know me and my family, hold your tongues.

The cat was an all-black Burmese with a crooked tail, about five pounds and more like a dog than any other cat I have ever met. We called her Bree and she would wait for us to get home from school at the back door and “Me-yah” us as we came in. Not ‘meow’ but ‘me-yah’. Don’t ask. Couldn’t tell you. I don’t speak cat.

And whoever said that cats were light-footed? That’s a crock. For all the five pounds that Bree weighed, you could hear her coming a mile away. Our back door had a window about five feet up and there was a storm door on the outside. The storm door had the screen on the top window – remember, we had a few pets and we only needed one to go through the screen before Dad switched the windows. Okay, maybe two.

That’s not the point. I was in the family room one day and I heard a “thump, thump, thump, thump” from outside then a BANG at the back door. It sounded like a kid on a pogo stick on the deck that missed a landing and crashed into the storm door.

I jumped up to see what was going on and I saw a little black cat, hanging from the upper screen window. Seems Bree wanted to come back in and thought she’d knock with style. It would have worked, too, if she had been able to get her claws out of the screen when I opened the door. I had to open and close the door three times before she could get her paws off the screen.

Bree could be stealthy when she wanted to, although that wasn’t often. The best example was one evening when my Mom was in her favourite swivel rocking chair. It had a tight woven fabric and was pretty tippy, especially when you had your feet up on a stool. Like Mom had.

The top of the chair had a wide area where the cushion met the back of the chair and was a fave spot for Bree to relax on. I was sitting on the other side of the room and couldn’t have paid for a better seat. I saw Bree at the back of the room, sauntering up to the back of the chair. She crouched down and got herself set up for the leap to the top of the chair cushion. Mom is deep into her TV show – a murder mystery, getting right near the climax. Bree doesn’t know Mom is there. You just can’t ask for anything better.

Bree gathers herself up and leaps for the top of the chair and – is short! She manages to grab about an inch below the top. The tippy, halfway reclined chair.

Mom’s feet come off the stool as the chair falls back and then Mom yells and throws herself forward to counter balance the five pounds of cat swinging on the back. The cat’s eyes get as big as dinner plates as the chair seems to fall on top of her, then flings her into the back of the chair as Mom throws herself up and out. Bree’s claws were stuck (again) and she yelled as well, desperately trying to free herself from this bucking bronco chair.

Now I know what caterwauling actually means. I heard it from my Mom and from the cat at the same time!

I never laughed so hard in my life. Mom was looking at her chair like it was possessed and Bree was finally free and hiding behind the cabinets, only thing showing were a huge set of eyes.

Life is never boring...