Thursday, September 24, 2020

THE LOVES OF A COOL CAT

                                                         


       Because I am unable to travel, I have added the only nonfiction piece from  my book of short stories:  

                                                        ASPECTS OF LOVE, for my readers' pleasure.

                                                                              Copyright: 2019                                                                                                   

                                                                                                      

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

                                                               THE LOVES OF A COOL CAT

A Short Tail

 

    How or why he landed on my doorstep, I have no idea, but there he was.  His levis so low in the back his crack showed, his tee shirt too short exposing a bit of his hairy chest, and he was wearing a baseball cap sideways.  I would have guessed him about 16 with a petulant look on his face and a reefer hanging out of the side of his mouth.  He had the look of a ladies' man with an ego to match. 

     That is how I would have described him if he were a human teenager, but he wasn't. He was a cat.  A scruffy, skinny, dirty grey cat with a matted coat and a cauliflower ear.  He was no longer a kitten.  However, it was obvious, he had already experienced an exceedingly full life during his ill-spent youth.  Under the circumstances, there was only one thing I could do: feed him. I decided if he was to become a permanent boarder, he must have a name.  Since he considered himself too grandiose to tell me one, I dubbed him Buster.    

    Although occasionally he would let me pat him on the head, he wasn't interested in me. He was a chick magnet, and even in all his dirtiness, the ladies loved him.  I have no idea if it was his petulant demeanor or his rakish look that attracted them, but he rarely lacked a female companion for breakfast. And so, it went. Now, I was always serving two. 

    The first was a grey tiger-striped, who my grandson of age three named Broccoli.  She came with him every morning to share their free food and snuggle a bit before us.  Nothing salacious, but they were affectionate with each other nonetheless.  This relationship went on for almost a year.  Then without as much as a 'how do you do,' Broccoli disappeared. 

    About the same time as Broccoli’s disappearance, I heard the neighbor’s little black indoor cat had escaped the confines of their home and could not be found.   Other than showing up for meals, Buster's presence became scarce.  He was eating a great deal more food but not gaining weight — “Curiouser and curiouser.”  Later the boys across the street announced the birth of five kittens by a little black female that had been hanging out behind their house. Ah! I had my answer.  Love was in the air, and Buster was obviously a great partaker.

      As they grew, Buster again became a more frequent customer to my ‘catateria,’ and with him came the black female whom my now four-year-old grandson had named Carrot (go figure) along with five little kittens.  

     Something had to be done.  I hired the 'mysterious lady' from Animal Control to take them all away.  The parents returned with chips in their ears and reconfigured to create a birth controlled safe area. I assume Animal Control hoped the two of them would contain the rodent population in the neighborhood.  Although I have no doubt they did their job, (occasionally I would find a mouse head on my porch).  Still, they showed up for breakfast every morning. 

    For the first few months after his return, Buster would eat his breakfast, however, he shunned me at every turn.  I assume he considered me the cause of his surgery, and HE WAS PISSED.  But except for a eunuch what man wouldn't be. After all, his operation was more than a vasectomy.  

     Now that he had his sex life curtailed, he suddenly had a bit of free time for personal hygiene.  His coat became clean and tidy, and he was again eating voluminous amounts of food. No sex, his new love seemed to be food.  He appeared to be hungry all the time.

Soon he was pushing himself into the house and heading straight for the kitchen.  The more I fed him, the more he forgave me for the dastardly act I had done to him, and he became my friend. Even occasionally rubbing his nose against mine.  I think it's a sign.  

      Carrot is still around.  They often hang out together on my front porch, but now Buster has four loves instead of one. Whipped Cream, Food, Carrot, food…me?