Okay, I insist, I must go first because I have so much to contribute since, well, I am Sir Andrew Long Legs, (Andy for short). When I yawn, my jaws separate so widely that I could swallow a full-grown pumpkin. Sometimes I emit a guttural growl that starts at my toes, and moves up my body to join the air emanating from my lungs, creating a storm that spews from my mouth and ears, putting fear in all critters, even me, truth be known.
In the beginning, when we found our Forever Home, the vet told Momma that two of the kitties she had rescued from work, were female and one was a male. So I was called Antoinette – till Momma and Daddy caught me in the act, indulging my male testosterone level with poor, innocent Gen. Daddy grabbed me, Momma picked up Gen to soothe her and let her know that there was a cure for that dastardly deed and it would be imposed forthwith. I was renamed – Andrew or Andy-Long-Legs because I have such a long body and legs.
The surgery for the cure was promptly moved forward. Even though I was not sure exactly why, still, it still made me feel like I had committed one of the Seven Sins – notwithstanding, I wasn’t chastised in any way and it had no long-term psychological effect on me, honestly.
After healing from the surgery, my siblings (Beau and Gen) and I, quickly became Indoor / Outdoor cats. We would wander over to the neighbors’ yards or across the street to pick up the other members of our feline only ‘gangsta’ club from the Cat Colony or the neighbor hood. We would hang out on street corners, sauntering down the side-walk, sometimes three deep. However, by nature, we are hunters (our Baby Momma cat did not get a chance to teach us, and I can assure you, Momma is clueless about stalking prey). Most of our outside time was spent at the Creek or in our front or back yard. I tell you that there are no more mice, pretty little birds, bees or butterflies in Jakitaville. Unfortunately, it is the law of nature, we cull the herd.
Once the hunting is done, it is time for a nap, on a lawn chair, in the sun on a cool day, or in the shade, in the heat of summer.
When I wake up, all refreshed and energized, I go looking for a game of chase with Mr. Grey Squirrel. Since the back yard is a Squirrel Free Zone, patrolled and enforced by Jakita (our Hot Dog), Mr. Grey Squirrel scampers back and forth on the fence that encloses our yard, screeching, dive bombing from the fence to the cherry tree to the roof of the garage –all the time secure in the knowledge I can never catch him.
In no time, Mr. Grey Squirrel is complaining because I tired him out. He takes a timeout high in the red maple, chirping and upbraiding me, his beady eyes keeping watch while the leaves camouflage his rat like body and his big, bushy tail. Feeling I have accomplished a full day, I push my way through the hole in the screen door (that I created for ease of entry). I go in the house meowing, ‘Hey, I am back. did you miss me?’ and head to my usual spot on the living room couch. When I am lucky, I even find another kitty to curl up with, for what else…. a cat nap.
