A Caturday Blog

My 17-year-old male, Ipsie

My 17-year-old male, Ipsie

My “kids” are my cats.

But they’re worse than children. They rule the household. I had to install a magnetic cat door so I didn’t have to get up 10 times every night to let the cat in or out. I even installed a second one in my office, so I wouldn’t… but don’t you know it, they’d still rather have me open the door.

You’ve probably seen the cat watch that has no numbers, simply Sleep, Eat, Sleep, Play, Sleep, Eat, etc. I would add to that–“Lap-time: Five minutes before the human plans to get up out of his or her chair.”

The Jellicle Cat, Jelli or Jelli-belly

The Jellicle Cat, Jelli or Jelli-belly

My two are as different as night and day. The older male cat is small, quiet, and has a tendency to curl up in a ball. The female is a “talker,” very friendly, and sprawls. My husband calls her “Ethel Merman,” because she is big, loud and obnoxious. (Apologies to E. Merman fans.)

Probably the funniest commercial I’ve ever seen was the one aired during the Super Bowl a few years ago about the cat-herders. That’s what I feel like some days.

Puss-n-boots

Puss-n-boots

At one time my dad had about 20 cats on the ranch in eastern Montana. This photo is of a couple of kittens playing in his boots. He was quite fond of his “herd.” In the winter he would even cook pancakes for them. I’ve often wished I had a video of him, carrying the pan of flapjacks across the yard, a line of cats following him as if he were the Pied Piper, their tails all straight up in the air like flags.

When he moved to Arizona with my brother and family, he had to leave his cats behind. I think he missed them.

This post is in honor of Dad’s birthday Nov. 9, 1924-April 1, 2006.

Published in: on November 9, 2008 at 2:18 am  Comments (4)  
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