Tag: Kitty Cat Club Med

But there’s a hope that’s waiting for you in the dark….
You should know you’re beautiful just the way you are….(Alessia Cara)

You’ve all hard of the ♣Life of Riley ♣ …but what about the Life of Charlie…like a fine wine, I just get better…. to myself, to the Four Footed (who were assigned by unknown entities to share my World)…and to Momma and Wonder Boy, notwithstanding. Just don’t be popping the cork any time soon… let me ferment a bit more …let me grow, expand my possibilities because like…who knew…there were actually souls with beating ♥’s who would bond with me without ulterior motives…like who knew?

Y’all know when it started…the very day the planets aligned and Cat Mandu found her Pink Cloud to Paradise, where she no longer could feed my paranoia…truth be told, after  Cat Mandu was Gone, Baby, Gone, she dropped by on occasion, urging me to make nice, not hideout in the crawl space like an illegal alien avoiding immigration officers.

I was a hot mess.  My calico raccoon fur was unkempt with humps of fur growing like foreign entities of questionable origins, all over my back.  My legs were arthritic from the damp and coolness of the basement and the extra weight I carried from spending too much time eating because, well, face it, I was sick and tired of being…well, me!

Now this was no Miracle on 34^th Street – there was no Courtroom, no prosecutor, no defendant, no judge and no jury.  It was just uphill, steady little steps, discovering that apparently I was lovable…Momma fussed over me…Wonder Boy brushed and brushed my coat, then took scissors to the humps of fur…all of a sudden I was respectable looking…I could hold my head high among my Four Footed Frenemies…until they became…friends actually.

Diva Calico Gen, who grooms the Ultimate Earth Dog Jakita, put me on her Calendar rotation, grooming me as well, daily…so I bellied on up to the bar and started helping groom Gen and Jakita…not so much Bad Boy Andy…although we can now meet at the food dish and I don’t snarl at him….oh, sometimes he’ll tease Gen and me, chase us a bit, to get the blood pumping but he can not help it…he’s got a reputation to maintain…Born to be Bad.

I am thinking I’ll probably never win an Oscar.… even a Feline Oscar  but if I did, I am so ready with my speech…to thank Cat Mandu for insisting post-mortem, ‘Change is good’, for the Four Footed Feral that forgave my past transgressions and embraced the New and Improved Charlie, to Wonder Boy who so patiently brushed and snipped until I was no longer a raccoon and to Momma, who brought me home and never gave up hope that I would one day come to appreciate the Cat I was Meant to Be…my life lesson was:

But there’s a hope that’s waiting for you in the dark…You should know you’re beautiful just the way you are….(Alessia Cara)

Oh, I have so much to tell you because so much has happened, it is hard to even wrap my Calico head around it….but it is all good.

As you know, my past sins of omission (rather than comission) left me with huge thick dread locks of fur gone wild, like camel humps, growing indiscriminately over my body…all because I was too paranoid to live upstairs.

No, my home, I decided, was in the dank, dark basement and crawl space, taking and obeying orders from the Dictator and Chief, Cat Mandu who left me behind while she socialized with the Two Footed upstairs, as well as to run in and outdoors at will.  I only approached the top of the stairs to reach my feeding station and then I was obnoxious with any cat that came near, hissing and growling to drive them away. Still, I would venture upstairs at night to alert Momma if Mandu had gone outside and not been let back in because, well, I did not want to sleep alone….

But you know what happened…the Dictator and Chief, Cat Mandu caught her Pink Cloud to Paradise and like the Cheese in the Farmer-In-the-Dell, I was left alone. So, I had a meeting with myself and decided…really, get a grip, try it, you’ll like it….so as Momma liked to say, I did a metamorphosis from a caterpillar into a butterfly, like overnight. 

I started slowly, hanging at the top of the basement stairs, stepping in to the kitchen, walking in further to claim the rug (that says the Cats Housekeeper lives here) in front of the fridge.  Soon I was brave enough to stake out Jakita’s Doggie pillow under the kitchen table.  I got a jaded look but no push back…Jakita is the sweetest dog ever. In no time I was eyeing the hallway to the dining room,  then Momma’s bedroom. 

I knew that was sacred ground, a Safe Zone, like a Refugee Camp, where you can feel safe and protected from the hostilities of the world.

The routine was born.  Every day I would sleep away the hours on Momma’s bed.  Every night I would sit in front of her bedroom, trying to corral her inside so that I could wedge myself beside her but even that has its own peculiar ritual.  I start on her right side, then step over her body to the left side.  In the morning as she stirs herself awake, I move over to the right side so I can purr and lick her awake.  I am depending on her to be there for me so I have got to make sure she is alert. No  more Cat Mandu to protect me… come to think of it, works for me.

Still, ten years of choosing to live in the basement wreaked havoc on my coarse fur… I looked like a Feral, albeit a fat feral (which there is no such thing) but Wonder Boy,  had the patience, the fix… All I had to do was trust him and Abracadabra the camels humps of fur would be gone… Spread your wings, prepare to fly….for you have become… a butterfly (Walter Afanasieff , Mariah Carey paraphrase )…If only, you Believe…..

Poor little Spookie Cat.  I don’t know whether to run him off the property or nurture him, so help me please. He seems so…abandoned somehow, big chunks of fur missing, his back paw skinned to the bone, one ear with puncture marks, a scratch under his left eye…Our cats are In and Out, In and Out but they look well fed with thick shiny coats of fur, no battle scars so…… When, where, how, why did it go so wrong for little Spookie Cat?

A new family moved in to the neighborhood a while back.  They seemed okay…They didn’t have two heads or three eyes, just a friendly Mom, two sweet kiddies and a father figure who went to work early, came home late, always with nary a smile, but some folk are just like that, said Momma.  They had a ratty tatty cream colored cat that spent a lot of time in the front window.

One day, when Momma was talking to the Friendly Mom, a second cat, grey and white, little Spookie Cat, came and wound himself around their ankles.  The friendly Mom said that when they moved Spookie had been disoriented, ran away and now two months later the Animal Control had phoned them that their cat had been found, did they want it back, because another family would keep it. The story sounded plausible, a happy ending. Momma bought it because she likes to see the good in people, don’t we all?

Who knows, who knows?  A couple of months later their ratty tatty cream cat was found by a neighbor, obviously done in by one of those drivers who believe they are in a Formula One Race on our residential street because of its hill, twists and turns, we believed.  So sad.  Since the Friendly Mom was not home, Momma and other neighbours called Animal Control, in a bid to save Ratty Tatty’s life.  Unfortunately all the Friendly Mom and the Father Figure got was a bil,l since Ratty Tatty had succumbed to his injuries. So sad.

Still the family had little Spookie Cat until sometime this winter…No one knows the why’s or wherefores…what we know is poor little Spookie Cat appears to be homeless.  Sometime this winter, Wonder Boy, who sees, feels and even hears the unspoken, called Momma to see his condition.  He was skin and bones, and severely beaten up by the Ferals, maybe even the Forest Freak. He hounds us to come inside, to pet him, please love him.

Thankfully, our Bad Boy Andy and Calico Diva Gen do love him so will spend hours in the sun beside him…but Clem-Kadiddle-Hopper, not so much. Remember, Clem has spent years trying to break the inner circle so for him, little Spookie Cat better wait in line.  Charlie, well she abides Gen, but hisses at any other cat.  She would frighten poor little Spookie Cat even more than he is right now and he is a hot mess.

So what to do about our little Spookie?…I could handle another cat but I can not endure hissing, snarling and all round bad vibes. Thank goodness we have a nice little garage he can live in.  Meanwhile, I will work on Momma and Wonder Boy, both of whom have tender hearts and one day soon, paw toes crossed, when I see little Spookie, I can say, ‘Welcome to Kitty Club Med.’  I am on it. Trust me.

So as my new-found reality (See Post: Andy’s Plight Without a Fight) of unconquerable pain wore on, I was sorry – sorry I teased Charlie, chased Clem and generally caused mayhem.  I wouldn’t do that again – if only it would make the agony pass.

Truth be told, the longer I sat  at the front door, waiting for it  to ‘open sesame’, I felt meaner and meaner.  The sky brightened, the sun rose and so did Momma.  Of course she noticed right away that I was hopping along on three paws but she is not the panic OMG type – more like the wait and see type. Apparently I wasn’t a priority. Where did I hear that one before?

As the days went on, I got meaner and meaner with the cats as I dragged around putting as little pressure as possible on my right paw.  My little white paw started to swell, like a balloon.  I could no longer eat.  I did not go outside.  I felt done like a dinner.  Momma said it was vet time….

Vets come in all stripes, you know.  Some are compassionate to a fault, others look at Momma and say, ‘It’s just a cat. You can get another one.’ What pray tell does that mean? Am I expendable?  Have I not claimed a spot in the heart of my family?  Won’t they miss my low purrs and louder meows (to be left outdoor) if I am gone?   Let’s call the vet I saw Dr. Practical Empathy.  He was absolutely kind to me but since the only cure for my swollen paw was an operation, the vet informed Momma another option available was to put me down. Huh? Did I hear that correctly? Momma was shocked.  ‘No, Andy is healthy, well–loved and an integral part of our family. Operate.’  Phew.  Cats really do have nine lives, it . Muchas gracias, Momma.

So it came to pass, I was whisked in to surgery and woke up with a cast like bandage on my right paw.  It did not feel right but, good news, the pain had turned to just the discomfort of  restriction.  And all the staff fussed over me, telling me how brave I was. A few hours later, Momma came to take me  home, home on the range, where the dog, cats, skunks, raccoons and rabbits roam…and a few foolhardy mice.  Dr. Practical Empathy told Momma another cat (he could tell by the size of the teeth mark) had bitten clear through my bone.  Sounds like I met up with the dreaded Forest Freak.

Let me tell you, I was given a Royal Welcome when I got home.  Jakita rushed over to sniff and air kiss me.  Even Diva Calico Gen got up and sauntered over, and massaged me with her head.  Charlie stood back and observed but seeing how I was not quite at par, she did not hiss.  That was a first.  I guess she like the new non-threatening pathetic Andy.

I hobbled over to the kitty hotel, jumped on the roof, away from all the love.  I had some healing to do…don’t interrupt me…but thanks for caring….I’ll tell you the details later……

Now being the Diva Calico Gen is WAY cool.  I pick my spot on the back of the couch in the sun porch, stretch out and flex my front paws, holding them up,  so that the rainbows cast by the disco crystal ball colors each claw nail a different shade of happy.  I imagine the light weight diamond stud earrings that will one day be in my pointy ears will bring even more light in to a world that is burdened with unseen yet heavy dark forces. 

It is my job to lighten up the world at large and live each day to contribute joy, love and peace, well sometimes.  I mean, don’t ask for a reference from that little mouse Wonder Boy caught me tossing in the air and catching, just for a lark and a laugh….Yuck, I am not going to eat it….I’ve got a Momma to feed me.

Still, day in, day out, when I am not dreaming of changing the world of felines by giving them access to fingernail polish, glittering earrings and teeny tiny stiletto high heel shoes (still working out how we will walk in them), I nap a lot, on Momma’s bed and I beg a lot for food to be served in my food dish, right on that very same bed.

But Houston, we got a problem because Charlie, who I would never refuse, has a notion she should be able to eat out of my dish….She looks at me with those unwavering green eyes, clumps of fur bristling, communicating, Momma loves me too.  And Momma does.  But Momma is hopeless.  She loves strays and even those poor underfed orphans from down at the creek. 

Momma loves the underdog  and I am an ‘under’ nothing.   No, no, no, I am more like what you’d call a going concern.  This may sound conceited but still, true story. Every cat wants to be me….because who does not want to shed light in the world.

And I am savvy enough to know I am a lucky one…first plucked from a manufacturing bin where I would have been crushed by First Tier Metal Automotive Parts….then taken home by Momma…adopted by Wonder Boy…and kept in line by the gentle Jakita because, well, I can get frisky….like a wild stallion, leading a pack of horses, thundering across the fenceless fields. When I take off on a tear, chubby little Jakita takes off behind me.  Sometimes I slow down so she can catch me.  She leaps on my back, pinning me to the floor, nibbling my ears, as I complain just loud enough for Momma to hear and reprimand Jakita, troublemaker that I am. 

However, I know the repercussions should Andy had been in the house, Big Bro though he is. If I woke him up racing around, the punishment would have been much more severe.  He doesn’t seem to have the gift of play.  He would have pounced on me and bit my delicate little ear lobes.

That is why I miss Bro’ RIP Beau.  He would never have allowed Andy to board me, like a hockey player on steroids. In Beau’s eyes, I could do no wrong and Andy respected Beau’s muscle mass – no wonder I miss him. The solution is simple.  I make sure Bad Boy Andy is outside before I go wild.

 

But you know how it is ….. as Cyndi Lauper says, ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.’

Ya with, me?