With apologies to all the meow lovers reading this, I don’t really like cats or kittens. It’s not an allergy issue. I didn’t have an early traumatic event with Morris or Garfield in my youth. Larger breeds such as tigers and lions at the zoo I find quite majestic … but that’s about it. No drastic hatred – just a malaise. The little fur balls test the limits of human-pet interaction like none other … in my most humble – but accurate – opinion. “LOL”. Shall I say, for the record, I’m an all-in “dog guy” just to clear things up. Or, was that apparent?
I remember we had a cat in my early years. Wasn’t my choice. Then again, nothing before age eighteen ever is. Had to be before I was twelve and still in elementary school due to the house we lived in and the car we had at the time. Huge, late 1970’s Ford cloth top roof (you’ll need to pardon my lack of details on the car), gas burning automobile. “Silky” managed to ride the cloth top from our house to a stop light three miles away without our knowledge of such. Must have been quite a ride for her. Watching her jump off the roof, scamper away across the sidewalk, through the neighboring yard, then disappear into nowhere was traumatic for others in my family … probably not for me. I can’t remember much other than those few details. There you have it. My childhood cat story. No tears. Meh.
I would not hurt a cat. I would provide a shelter or food for a cat (temporarily) if necessary. I love people who love cats. I respects friends who respect cats. Cat Stevens sings “Morning Has Broken” better than anyone else on the planet. “The Cat in the Hat” is a freaking awesome book. The quote, “what greater gift than the love of a cat?” by Charles Dickens remains my least favorite of all time, and Eartha Kitt was, well…the hottest Catwoman evaah!! ..which gets us quickly down the road to leather cat o’nine tails … whiiiiiich… oh, well…never mind.
I’m back. Short, but necessary, pause to eat lunch. Delicious mushroom-swiss burger, btw.
Cats, kittens, felines, tabbys (tabbies, tabby’s), Toms, Tomcats, Persians, Shorthairs, Sphynxans, Siamesians, Himalayans, Heralayan, Theyalayans, Themalayans, … or any other breedians….not my thingian. Established.
Enter exhibit “A” as seen above. Can I freely admit I took the picture for a few reasons? Giza-ish in stature for one. Perfectly positioned as if to guard the great tomb of the Pharaoh Khafra; Although, to compare myself to a great Pharaoh would be a slight stretch (he wouldn’t have had access to a cell phone in order to take that picture … that’s the only difference).
Second, the stare. Typical cat. Eeer, kitten. Here I am. Enjoying an afternoon off at a local hangout, minding my manners, playing a …. game … relaxing .. by myself .. trying my best to make a financial contribution to our local economy. I look up. “It” looked down. We had a moment initially. Mine might have been gas from the breakfast I had only a few hours prior, though. Now, I said, “it” – not to be disrespectful to the newspaper-colored quadra-legged creature. Just don’t know the sex and didn’t care to find out. Or ask. Yeah, ask the cat. Like THAT would have helped.
Anyway, every few seconds I looked up, the damn CorK (my new nickname since I do not know the proper term. Cat + or + Kitten = CorK) continued the stare like I was doing something unsavory. Look, what was sweet and innocent at first was getting annoying. Every. Few. Seconds. CorK did not move – just a stare. Noise from the machine? Nope. Me saying, “What, am I bothering YOU?”. Nope. As silent and still as the Sphinx, this CorK had me in the barren desert of no response. EXCEPT I had one move left…literally!!
Sudden, small jerky body movements must be the answer. Nothing to startle any humans nearby (fortunately none where I was. Actually, nobody around – don’t ask) I started with my eyes. Now this takes a bit of skill because I was still trying to “play” my game at the same time. What makes all of this more remarkable in hindsight is the fact that the CorK probably didn’t two sh**s about any of this. I started with a sudden left-to-right shifting of my eyes. No response. Then eyes and head. Nope. Eyes/Head/Shoulders. Nope. Eyes/Head/Shoulders/Upper Body. Nope. Surely an all-in body tremor WITH a chair tilt and tremor? Nope. Ok. Then. CorK fifty-thousand points, Doug Zero and a sore neck.
So I had to take a picture. And, you guessed it, the CorK didn’t move UNTIL a milli-second AFTER the picture was taken!!!. I kid you not. I swear the damn CorK came over, sat on MY machine JUST TO HAVE THE PICTURE TAKEN!!…
Well, just to prove how mature I am, I’m NOT giving “it” the satisfaction of printing a copy. I’ll just spend my whole afternoon typing away while this CorK goes about tormenting other unsuspecting victims. I hope they don’t have a cell phone because this CorK is very smart and cunning ….
…. and pretty damn cute. Which was the point of this blog in the first place. Still not a cat fan. And, my back hurts. Cats are dumb.
Stick a CorK in the “whine” bottle of my blogging life today. I’m out.