My Roommate's Kitty - And Other Cat Tales
by Jeff Wylie
(San Antonio, TX)
My roommate Jose has a Siamese cat named "Kitty". Jose has a very vivid imagination when comes to naming pets.
Kitty used to sleep in the living room next to the big chair...that's in the living room. Now she sleeps on the foot of my bed every night. Kitty is a good kitty. Except when she's a bad kitty during the times in which she tries to eat my USB cable, to which I respond in my best Cartman voice, "That's a bad Kitty! This is my pot pie!"
Kitty follows me everywhere I go...except to work...or the strip club, which I don't go to anyways. Kitty is an older kitty and doesn't bath herself as much as she used to, I'm sure...which leaves her fur a little bit on the oily side...but not so oily as to replace fossil fuels.
She enjoys eating, pooping and sleeping just like I do. She's pretty thin, which reminds me...Note to self: "Self, the next time you are at the store that sells groceries, remember to pick up nummy cat treats."
I love Kitty and Kitty loves me...or at least as much as a cat's personality will allow. But alas...I am not Kitty's owner...although as we all know, "Dogs have owners; cats have staff."
I have been the staff to some very fine felines during my lifetime. There was (I forget her name, dangit) who was my guard cat when I was a newborn mini-person. Only my Mom and Dad would be allowed near my crib as she would fend off all manner of evil doers and tax collectors.
During my teen years there was Garfield, of course...a black and white cat who liked to hide in my guitar case and who also had the strange habit of sitting in front of our door for a couple of minutes, then freaking leap to the top of the door frame and then would sprawl out with his feet in the air as to throw a temper tantrum because we wouldn't let him outside to do the Stray Cat Strut.
And my favorite cat of all...Sam. A real cat's cat. He would sucker his victims in by letting you pet him once...then twice...and just when you started to feel comfortable with him, after the third pet it was time to Attack! Oh, at the feline tactics and strategy he possessed.
I'd love to be a cat's own again one day. I'd get an orange tabby and name him "General Bonkers". He would have his military coat covered in ribbons and medals from doing heroic cat stuff...like eating and pooping and sleeping, just like I do. I would give him the occasional saucer of half-n-half and a can of primo tuna along with a scruffle to the back of his neck...although I wouldn't rub his belly because that's where a cat's murder button is located. He would be a good kitty, just like Jose's kitty, "Kitty".
There have been other cats during my time...like Silver Moon, who I tried to flush down the toilet when I was three. Shadow, who in bizarre fits of fury would attack her tail until it finally had to be cut off...but she was gentle enough to let you wrap your arm around her as you went to sleep. Kroker, an old, prehistoric, huge gray cat that sounded like a frog when he meowed. And of my late grandma's eleven...yes...eleven cats, Yoda. She was considered our nurse because whoever happen to be sick, she was always nearby with purr for both the heart and soul.
Of course I like dogs too..growing up with Blondie as a kid...then Babe, a goofy Doberman with a cropped tail but uncropped ears...and the cutest, smartest, most loving and annoying yapper of them all, a toy American Eskimo named Cassie who passed away just a few months ago. Sure do miss her.
Well, that's the end of this novel. These thoughts kept going thru my head so I had to write (type/text) them down. Here's a few pics of some of those mentioned who shall now and forever more be in the pet Hall of Fame of mine heart.