Hi. I am Sir Beau-Re-Guard, but I don’t have a swell head, because in this life time, I am a.k.a. The Muscle. No doubt I am handsome with gleaming black and white fur that casts red light in the sun with a long tail, milky paws and the whitest of whiskers that is startling against my black countenance. I am a well proportioned Kitty with claws that can shred Kevlar, sharp incisor teeth that will leave a lasting impression, and a muscled body that can trap the enemy until he begs for mercy – even the Forest Freaks are spooked by me.
Now if this sounds like I sound conceited for just another stray alley cat, well you are wrong. The proof is in the pudding. And so, if my brother, Andy, (a.k.a The Brainiac) and my sister, Calico Gen (a.k.a. The Diva) and I go walking The Brainiac leads us, The Diva follows, reaping the benefit of being Guarded by me, The Muscle, at the end of the single file formation . Really a big softy, that loves to lay on my back beside my Momma, trapping her hand between my paws so she can scratch the top of my head, now, do my chin, oh please rub my belly as I warble and purr, seems lost on my enemies. It is as if I have a split personality, I tell you or like maybe feline bipolar, but …I do what has to be done because, like the Three Musketeers, it is: ‘All for one and one for all.’
I know from whence I came because Momma told me. It all began in a stamping plant parking lot, a long time ago. Sometimes I vaguely remember the constant thumping of the 1000 Ton Presses, endlessly turning coils of steel into auto parts that clanged as they fed into Just In Time Bins, for the ‘Big Three’ Automotive Companies. In cat nightmares I still recall the pervasive smell of the lube, and hear the irritating back up beeper of the fork lifts, as they whizzed around the parking lot. It was our lot, until the miracle of Momma, Dad (RIP) and Wonder Boy.
My next memory clip is being bottle / nipple fed by Momma or Wonder Boy, a type of gruel, heavy on watered down milk, light on baby cereal. It made me gag and choke, spewing the contents over all surfaces, be it the bathroom or the wet nurses. No surprise that I did not retain enough to stay hydrated – not good. Guess what happened to me? Wonder Boy reported my condition, Momma & Daddy rushed me to the vet, a limp, dehydrated, not responding kitten, wrapped in a towel.
Daddy, in emergency mode, made an illegal right hand turn (it is not permitted Monday to Friday, between 4:00pm to 6:00pm) on the way to the vet. Although very lucrative for our city (since it is a legal right hand turn for twenty-two of twenty-four hours in a day), still it comes as a total shock to most of the drivers, who are unaware of the trap. Having the luck of the Irish, there was one of Our City’s finest, enforcing the traffic laws, that fill the city coffers. ‘Please’, Momma said to the officer, ‘Our kitten is dying, and time is of the essence, just let us take him to the vet.’ Not only did the ‘Mr. To Serve and Protect Officer‘ do that, he said, if we would bring back the vet’s bill, he would cancel the ticket. A good guy. I am mighty thankful with your understanding the emergency at hand, Mr. Policeman. I heard Momma talking that just a little longer and it may have been game over for me.
When I was well enough to go home, I chomped down on whatever gruel I was fed, just like The Brainiac and The Diva – it always just made sense to fall in line and copy what The Brainiac did, if you had any wits about you at all.
What do I do with my time? I go out doors, I hunt, I play endless games of chase whether it be with the squirrels, my siblings, the neighborhood cats or the feral but mostly I am a front and centre solitaire, spending a lot of time resting my head on Momma’s pillow, as I slumber away. However, I still bare the curse of being a Tom Cat.
Early one morning, as the dawn was breaking, to Momma and Daddy’s horror, I even went so far as to hunt down a rabbit. I streaked across the back yard, the fully grown rabbit clamped in my jaw, trying to hide my bounty, instinctively realizing that Two Footed’s would be appalled by my outlaw hunting action when they so willingly fed me vitamin induced cat food.
Sometimes, when I decide to terrorize the indoor cats, Wonder Boy cools me down by ejecting me out into the dark, cold winter night. For the next few days, I behave like the fine gentleman cat I pretend to be, (in Momma’s presence only). She has a calming effect on me, so says Wonder Boy. But, hey, I am The Muscle, so what else would you expect from me?
However, I am special in my own unique way. When Momma says, ‘Hi Beau’, to me every morning, I reply ‘Hi’ back to Momma, not ‘Meow’, not ‘Hi Mummy’, just ‘Hi’. Then Momma gives me a sliver of a piece of her buttered toast – amazingly I love Two Footed food, although none of the other cats do.
What really inspires me is how easy it was to train Momma to use her ears and eyes to hear and see me as a unique kitty, beloved for what I bring to the equation, not what I am sadly lacking or even worse, being judged by the contributions our other cats bring. So till later….
