Category: Inanimate Yet Very Animate

So just like an evangelistic Born–Again–Christian, the Tiger, was born to a new life the day Senorita Jakita spied him on Momma’s bookshelf,  on top of the harvest horn that was brimming full of fall silk flowers. The minute Jakita clapped her eyes on him, she recognized that she and the Tigger were sugar and spice, (and all things nice), salt and pepper, meant to be.  Now, all Jakita had to do was sit her little wriggling puppy body in front of the bookshelf and whimper mournfully, until Momma came over and asked her what she wanted.

Well, that was a challenge because Momma was just not picking up on the radar that day (and dare we say, many days).  Maybe Momma had lots to do or had dialed in the wrong channel but after a while Momma told Jakita she had no idea what she wanted and continued to run here and do this, then run here and do that.  Jakita laid on the floor, in front of the bookshelf, head between her paws and napped.  Momma would be back.  She always came back.

Now the Tigger felt twinges of hope. From what he knew about Jakita, she would never give in till ‘mission accomplished‘. Tigger suspected Momma would be curious enough to re-tackle the puzzle after she ate some lunch and her blood sugar rose, at which point, hopefully her brain would kick in.  Ah, a Tigger can have his dreams. Yet, pretty much that is how Tigger got off the shelf and in to action.

Momma once again zipped in the room.  Since Jakita was about ten weeks old, schedules were adhered to rigidly….Don’t blame Momma.  She can not help herself.  She is a Virgo. It was puppy eating time, then puppy go outside time.  Momma scooped up Jakita and Bingo, Bango, Bungo, she got it. As Momma rose she saw Tigger’s glass eyes begging, ‘Me, take me.’  Of course, Jakita wanted to play with him.  After all, her basket of toys was already overflowing, one more would not hurt. (LOL) Thus began the Tigger’s ‘Born–Again’ life.

Personality wise, Jakita is day and night from Zanny.  Jakita has this ingrown sense of responsibility to protect All Creatures, Great and Small.  Not so much our Zanny, who would dump the Tigger anywhere. It would never cross her mind that if you came outside with Tigger, you went back inside with Tigger.  She would strand him under the bushes, where no one could see him except the raccoons who would come over to check if it was one of their kit. And God Bless the squirrels who would leave Tigger a chestnut from the neighbor’s tree so he would not be hungry as well as afraid, in the dark.  And God Bless Momma, who would come outside and poke around under the bushes with a flashlight, to find Tigger and bring him inside.

Now the Tigger has the life of which he dreamed about, all those years as he languished on top of the book shelf. Okay, full disclosure, it seems the Tigger still need a good shaking every once in a while, but Jakita never chews him and he is part of the Story Telling Gang which includes Jakita and Gen all of the time, Charlie, some of the time, the Incredibly Wide Eyed Monkey Ruby and oh,  sometimes Little Cream Colored Floppy Eared Babby.  They congregate on Momma’s bed and listen as the stories unfold.

Also, on top of Momma’s Armoire there are all kinds of plush toys that belonged to Wonder Boy when he was a child.  They too have stories  they also are anxious to share (no doubt). You can see it in their glassy-eyed stares.  Their day is coming…soon…..because we believe:

‘Every stuffed toy must have his day….Every stuffed toy must have his say….’ At least that’s what Stonewall Jackson said…or something like that……

 

 

 

Now those of you familiar with monkeys know that we believe deeply that we have been given a superior intellect.  Sure, sure, sure we need to be socialized to develop but we just improvise along the way, especially if we have been blessed with living in a stress free environment…. like in Momma’s bedroom. And if I live in a monkey free zone without even any trees to swing on, I find nearby replacements to befriend and mesmerize,  by mind control – well, that and my full on button eye no wavering stare.

You probably know once you go monkey, there is no return, because we are the masters of intrigue, guarding secrets, yet spreading gossip at the same time. It is the Law of the Jungle buried deep in our DNA. You will not believe and it took me a while to figure it out, but a dog or a cat  or even little stuffed toys to mother, can be all a monkey needs to feel invigorated and worthwhile.

I started a whisper, only audible by trained ears and in no time Jakita recognized my need to be fulfilled and cuddled closely, using my lap as a pillow to sleep on.  Truth be known, I like dogs like her, because she respects me and my pretty pink tutu, never chewing on it.  Instead she sucks the duvet which works for me …. even if it is exasperating for poor Momma who is not only the housekeeper but also the Laundry Lady.  I bet you did not even know you had one of those at your house.  I keep my glassy non wavering eyes focused…I see things.

Hush-Hush Sweet Charlotte Cat (Charlie) is Little Miss Manners with me.  She will sit beside me but give me my space.  I can not imagine why she hisses so at Andy Cat but that is above my pay scale.  It comes under the category of cat on cat action that only felines understand….and only God knows if they do… 🙂

 

Although Gen and I have become buds over the years, it is a work in progress because she is a Rascal.  Momma pinned those bright shiny stars on my tutu. Gen thinks it is okay to bat them with her paw or even worse, she chews them.  Sometime the capped on one end straight pin Momma used to attach the glittery adornments, will attack Gen back.  With that she takes off, like Speedy Gonzales. However, being kind of blonde (well, another secret, don’t tell, so is Momma) Diva Gen Cat forgets and does the same thing next day or week or when the fancy strikes her. Still Gen will spend hours sleeping with me all day, waiting for Jakita, Tigger and Babby to return so we can continue to trot out the stories we have heard, and the (exaggerated) lives we have lived.

I must say sweet little, floppy-eared stuffed Babby  and the amazingly striped stuffed Tigger Kitty are the most faithful, staying snuggled under my arms, hours at a time. Then Jakita decides they need a good shaking (has no one ever told her of shaken baby syndrome) or  they need a walk and she puts them in her mouth, jumps off the bed and takes them to unknown destinations, at least for me because I never leave Momma’s room. Yet somehow, like homing pigeons, they always come back to me, because they know which side their bread is buttered on.

 

Note:  Part of the RUBY Series Also see:                                                       Ruby – The Incredibly Wide Eyed Stuffed Monkey

Email To:  housekeeping@hotdogcoolcats.com

Okay, okay, okay.  I know, already, I am the opposite end of the spectrum from Ruby, the Incredible Wide Eyed Stuffed Monkey.

I am nothing but a Third World stuffed toy, created by Third World child labor, somewhere in Asia,  by Capitalistic, yet unregulated manufacturers who find anything for a dollar buyers in the North American market place. But first, how did I get here? Easy, breezy – Shipping containers, chock full of merchandise totally  flood the North American market and end up in various stores where they sell all their products at one price.  You know what chains of stores I mean.

Somehow, somewhere I ended up in a store, east of the Big Smoke.  My Auntie Goodie-Two-Shoes was buying stocking stuffers and grabbed me, without any real intent, except to fill a Christmas Stocking. But what was me, you ask?

A little golden-brown striped tiger, with cream tipped toes and tail, the size of six-week old kitty, with felt ears, small glassy eyes and a will to survive. Oh and the inside there  was no plush filling. It was straw I bled, (like the Scare Crow in The Wizard of Oz, you ask?) when RIP Zanny, the family pet, disciplined me, frequently. It seemed I had a lot to learn!

And so, Christmas Morning 2002, stockings were distributed and I was pulled out and placed on the coffee table as other gifts were being opened.  That was when, Zanny, buried in tissue paper, chasing bows and balls, and all things that glittered, spied me.  Quick as a wink, this little rat snatching Yorkshire Terrier,  a product of her breeding and DNA,  kidnapped me, from the table and trotted to her dog pillow in the kitchen and deposited me down.  All those Two Footed cooed, ‘Isn’t that so cute?’ It seemed no one heard my silent screams as her teeth trapped me firmly in her little mouth. Even Teddy, the American Eskimo, who held me in contempt, because he had no time for toys, and would never come near me, shook his head.  These Two Footed are so naïve, his dour expression read.

Once I had the dubious honor of being claimed, it seems I had to be named.  Momma looked at those fine stripes and decided, a teeny tiny tiger like me, should be called Tigger, like Winnie the Pooh’s pal.  This time Teddy rolled his eyes around and around.  What gives? Does Momma not know tigers are ferocious?  It seems to have escaped her general knowledge .  I know that I never won any battles with Zanny but on the other hand, I am still here to tell the story.  I just don’t have that Tiger-takes all-killer instinct.  I suspect I am just a kitty that looks like a Tiger.

Trust me, I am sure, Zanny meant no harm when she shook me till her brain rattled, gouged my ears, and my underbelly so that I bled straw. I was so small, easy to transport,  so bite size, you might say. I fit perfectly into her mouth. You know, maybe she was trying to be kind when she took me outside with her (or was it punishment because if she had to go, so did I? Who knows?) But then, blonde that she was (no, she was actually a beautiful silver-gray and tan Yorkie), she would leave me outside. Now it is a known fact tigers live in jungles in countries that the equator run through,  where it is hot, hot, hot.  My blood is too thin to appreciate the  usual land of snow banks and icebergs that are omnipresent in a Canadian winter. Anyway, is there not laws against abandoning dependents in snow banks?  I will have to ask Jakita to check that out in her Policies and Procedures for all (somewhat) Living Creatures.

But then something happened to Zanny.  I heard rumors, (little pitchers with big ears).  All I know was a sad Momma sewed up my holes, reattached what was left of my left ear and placed me on top of a harvest horn brimming full of fall flowers, on her book shelf where I had a clear, unrestricted view of Ruby on Momma’s bed. Each day Ruby would be removed at night, put back in the day. I wondered if Ruby knew how much I longed for Momma to pick me, just touch me but she was busy, I know and I was safe.  Why was I so ungrateful?

Months went by, then years and I was almost resigned to a life without adventure.  I mean, Zanny, for all of her faults, included me in all her activities. She even took me to bed at night to cuddle, carried me to the doggie pillow every morning, so there was a certain gain, 

if I could take the pain. Still, and I am not complaining, days were long and nights were longer when I was in wait mode.  Then, a miracle –  one day when…what was that? Did I hear a little yap, a whimper, a concentrated effort to actually bark? My pulse quickened. I felt a Rescue coming down and I was so ready.  I wanted to live again, I’d even settle for a Zanny type but please Dear God, make this puppy a little more genteel, teeth just a little more forgiving. Oh, and I hate staying out on cold dark  nights so as the Scare Crow in Wizard of Oz laments, please Dear God, if it is in your power could it be  arranged for the puppy to ‘only have a brain’.  Thank you, God.  Amen.

Little did I know my world was going to be changed irrevocably…and it is all good!

And so, cute and cuddly as I may be,  I am still an inanimate prop, in an animated world.  But I am a being , in my opinion, in my own right.  Don’t I serve as a pillow for weary pets, bring flash to Momma’s bed and even cry invisible tears from my wide open button eyes?  I know a lot about me.  Momma was in the hospital so to make her feel better, her sister, Itty Bitty took her son, Super Boy to a Fantasy Land where he could create a Stuffed Toy that would surely cure her of her various ailments.

First an outer shell must be chosen.  Super Boy surveyed the inventory, selected, then discarded shells, based on texture, shades, sizes and shapes, like it was a  project that his very life depended on. At last, after taking all possibilities in to consideration, he chose me, a caramel colored monkey, (hm, what exactly does that say about Momma?) with beige hands and toes, a long tail with a beige tip and mahogany bubble gum ball eyes. 

I had an amazing shell but no body until Super Boy went about choosing between cubes of plush or free range fleece.  To this day, like all of you, it is a mystery what is on the inside of me because, like you, I can only see my outer shell and I am well satisfied with Super Boy’s choices.

However,  like Adam and Eve from Genesis, once I had knowledge, I felt shame and wanted my body covered.  And Super Boy out did himself.  With the most minute attention to detail, Super Boy chose a light pink tutu with lace and sparkles (Momma later sewed on  satin cushion stars).  The final step was to assign a name because I was Pedigree and would be forever Registered at the Fantasy Land of Stuffed Animals.

And that my dear is how I became known as Ruby, the Incredibly Wide Eyed Monkey.

Now I awaited delivery to my new home where Momma showed total respect by assigning me the best seat in the house on her fluffy bed pillows.

But…this is just the beginning of the story to be written. There is some one else you must meet.

Like this: Ready RUBY TUTU

or Email: housekeeping@hotdogcoolcats.com