There’s been a subtle changing of the guard in the TailTalk house. I’m not sure when, or even how this happened, but somehow we have become subjects of our cats. And we seem to do it willingly. And I don’t know who is more surprised by all of this, us or the dogs, because I can tell by the stunned looks on their faces they don’t get it.
Booger was the original inside cat while Thomason, Don Cato and Bartholomeow were outside. Tommy was the ultimate barn cat, and although he’d been fixed he maintained the swagger of a true tomcat. Now he spends his days lying on the dining room chair, in front of the large window, watching the birds that fly by just outside his reach. Don Cato and Bartholomeow also sleep in the dining room, but spend the rest of their days in the living room with Booger and the rest of the family. Because Booger and Tommy were enemies outside, Action Jackson won’t let Tommy in the living room because he was mean to Booger, Jack’s very good friend. As long as Tommy stays in the dining room or on the kitchen tile he’s fine, but the moment Jack hears his little kitty feet hit the carpet Jack comes flying from whatever room he’s in and stops in a buddarump-buddarump-buddarump skid to stop right at Tommy’s feet, letting him know that you will NEVER get in with the family so long as I am here because you were mean to my friend, and when you are mean to my friend you are a persona non grata in his world from that day forward. Jack is just like that. He’s been the happiest, most loving animal I’ve met from the day we picked him up from the high kill shelter, one day away from euthanasia, the smell of death upon him, and still we named him Happy Jack because he had the heart of a saint. He continues to be the great protector to this day of his special friend, Zoeybean, as they wrestle through the house from room to room, making you wonder where they get the energy. For some reason Zoey thinks Bart is a squeaky toy. If she bites at him he squeaks, just like her toys. She understands the other cats aren’t squeaky toys, just Bart. She only tries to squeak him when she thinks we’re not looking, and we always are. She has this whole guilty thing she goes through before she’s going to squeak the cat so you can’t help but know what she’s about to do, but she doesn’t know she gives it away every time. I’m sure she wonders how we know. But the biggest change of all that I’ve seen is in my husband. Booger has become his cat. Since Booger feels put out because Tommy is now an inside cat (or at least this is how the scenario plays out in Tim’s mind) Tim makes sure Booger gets special treats so when Tim goes out to his workshop first thing in the morning he picks Booger up and hand carries him across the yard to the barn. Then in the barn, because Booger was never our good mouser cat, Booger sees the mice and watches the mice, but the mice always seem to get away. He tries to catch them, but doesn’t succeed. He just doesn’t know how. And the mouser cats are laying in the spot of sunshine from the window in the house. Hmmmm. Then when Tim is done in the workshop he carries Booger over to the back porch and sets him down while he does his chores, then they come in the house together, best of friends. Don Cato and Bart take turns taking naps in our laps, and they love to be touched. Don Cato brings out an overwhelming desire in me to dress him up in my old doll clothes. I haven’t thought about playing with dolls since I gave them up so very many years ago, and yet, this cat brings out this overwhelming desire to dress him up in costumes and play. Sometimes I look over and see Tim doing machine guns with Bart’s back legs. He loves it. He flips around from side to side so you get all four legs equally. Most of the time we sit around the living room, Tim and I, Girlie Sue, Jack, Zoeybean and Booger, acting like the old folks we’ve become, while Bart and Don Cato are playing in the background. You see the shape of blackness moving between the top of the couch and the sheet I use as a feeble attempt to keep animal hair off the couch while Don Cato tries to ride the antique spinning wheel like a ferris wheel in the background. I don’t know where this silliness is coming from. Like I said, there’s been a change of guard at the house. I’m not sure when it happened or how it happened, but something is different, and I like it. Except for poor Tommy. Banished by the pack to live life at the edge of the kitchen tile, able to see all the reindeer games but not take part. But until he stops his tomcat ways of bullying everyone else he’ll have to remain on the outside, looking in, but still exponentially better off than he ever was before. And every time the other six go outside (they go out as a group) Tommy comes into the living room for alone time with Tim and I. He is probably the smart one because he gets one on one time that no one else ever gets. Maybe Tommy is the smartest one of all. It’s difficult to say, but for whatever reason the situation works for him, and for us too. Our lives have improved exponentially since we became a family of three dogs and four cats. I think we need one more dog to make it even. But I’ll have to think on that a little while longer. Maybe it’s time for you to think on it too. Or maybe you should open your life to a kitten or a cat, or two. I can’t say enough about the joy you’ll get back. You receive so much more than you give that I don’t understand why everyone doesn’t run right down to the shelter to adopt today. If there is a particular breed you are thinking about getting call the shelter because they hear of people that are in dire straits and need to give up their animals but haven’t yet, so your best friend may just be waiting for you right now, just a phone call away. There’s no reason to spend life alone and lonely when you can spend your days filled with love and loving. It spills out into everything else you do when you open your heart to the least of them among us, the shelter animals that have no one. And never forget, it is only through you that the Randolph County Humane Society continues to save lives, one by one.
