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our new columnist Lynn Perrier |
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How our new columnist wound up sharing her home with eight cats
...Lynn Perrier, 2001
of TheColumnists.com
I
FIRST BECAME interested in elephants when I saw them in a circus
act as a child. My intrigue with these giant creatures grew as
I did, despite my parents' refusal to allow me to have one of
my own.
I have learned elephants have a matriarchal society. In other
words, the female rules the roost, so to speak. I like that concept.
Despite their size they are extremely sensitive and develop strong
bonds. They are smart, too.
We all know about their terrific memory, but that is not the
only remarkable characteristic they have since they are also
known to be highly intelligent. If you think about it, they must
be. They have survived for hundreds and hundreds of years yet
have you ever seen an elephant with pockets or carrying a purse?
No. Have you ever seen a homeless or stray elephant? No. Have
you ever been wakened in the middle of the night by a barking
elephant? No. They are a very interesting animal and I would
love to have one.
So, now that I have explained my fascination with elephants you
will understand how I ended up with cats. I don't mean big jungle
cats, I mean little kittens and domestic house cats. Stick with
me. It will make sense, I promise.
For
a city kid, I had quite an array of pets, which included cats,
rabbits, dogs, bunnies, birds, even a little duck once. Some
people don't feel fulfilled unless they have a spouse or significant
other. Me? I can live without a spouse but I can't imagine living
without a pet. I did try to live with a spouse once, but I didn't
feel fulfilled in the least. He didn't like animals so I had
to choose which I wanted more--him or the four footers.
The definition of fulfilment in my dictionary spells pet. Not
just any pet. It has to be one I can cuddle; one which can sleep
with me; one who will pay me due homage; one who will comfort
and cherish me like no significant other would. Since the divorce
I have had no problem feeling fulfilled.
For most of my adult life I have lived in an apartment building.
Although it doesn't say on any lease I've ever seen "No
Elephants Allowed," I just know if I asked I would hear
about some little known municipal by-law which prevents any pachyderm
from residing in a two bedroom apartment. Realizing that most
landlords would probably be unbending on the subject I came to
grips with the fact that I will never, in all
likelihood, have an elephant. I decided to make cats my pet of
choice.
Over the years my love and fascination for cats has grown into something akin to an obsession. They are quite a challenge. Only a cat can make you feel they are doing you a favour by allowing you to care for them and then compensate you by lulling you to sleep with the quiet rhythm of its purring in your ear.
My experience has taught me that each cat is unique with a very different personality, good and bad habits, likes and dislikes. They are incredibly complex little beings in fur coats and well worth the effort it takes to know and understand them.
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the effort it takes to know and understand them. |
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In this column, you will get to know me and my cats on a first name basis. There is a lot to know because I have eight of them. Don't you dare call me the "cat lady." I am not the cat lady! Even my son says I am too young to be a cat lady, whatever that means. I am a lady who loves cats and chose to share my life with them. Mind you, I didn't choose to live with eight cats; they chose me--but that's another story.
They are interesting, funny, loving, intelligent, frustrating, obstinate, and at times downright bull-headed, but I adore each of them and appreciate their individuality and nature.
I would now like to introduce you to the members of my feline family. I have no doubt that in time you will fall in love with them as I have. I should tell you that I have a strange imagination stemming partly from imposing human characteristics occasionally on my kitties. For instance, while observing Toby the other day, I pondered who he would have been if he were human. He is debonair with a quiet intensity, gentle, affectionate and extremely handsome. The choice was clear. He is my Cary Grant. Consider yourself warned.
Testy
Tinker
was
a Christmas present from me to my mother. Having failed to break
Tinker's habit of jumping on her stomach in the middle of the
night from a distance of at least four feet and also having failed
to break her habit of leaping out of nowhere to grab at her ankles,
my poor mother, fearing a heart attack, gave up. That was when
Tinker became mine. She is a beautiful 14-year-old short haired
silver tabby with a pink nose who is regal, grouchy, very intelligent
and does not suffer fools gladly. Being resident Queen, she makes
sure the other cats respect her position since she doesn't much
like any of them and seldom lets one within a foot of her. Despite
her no-nonsense facade, Tinker has one of the most endearing
habits proving, without a doubt, she is really a baby at heart.
Now, in order to appreciate what I am going to describe to you,
it is necessary to visualize this step by step. About once a
week, at her bidding, I pick her up, lay her on her back and
hold her in my arms as you would a baby. With incredible dexterity
and determination, she proceeds to pull her tail up between her
hind legs. Holding on with her front paws she puts her tail in
her mouth and sucks the tip of it, making smacking noises not
unlike a nursing baby.
Between the smacking, slurping and purring you would think there
was some mechanical machinery inside her making all that noise.
Not wanting anyone but me to know her secret, she won't suck
her tail if one of the other cats is in the room. Should one
walk in, whilst she is indulging, she bolts as if struck by lightening.
Tinker is my Elizabeth Taylor.
Beautiful
Bijou
is
one of the most gentle loving, affectionate cats I have ever
had the pleasure of knowing. She is now 10 years old and a true
innocent. From her long, primarily white fur on the outside,
to her wonderful heart on the inside she is pure love. Her pink
nose and lips are the colour of Double Bubble gum and she is
just as sweet. I have never heard her so much as hiss at any
of the other cats and in fact she would pretty much put up with
anything from them.
When Sophia and Fellini were kittens, Bijou would be sleeping
soundly in the middle of the floor and invariably they would
run right over her as if she weren't there. She just looked up
at me with a hurt look on her beautiful little face. Fortunately,
she has since learned to hide from them.
Never wanting to be too far from me, she loves when I call her
for kitchen duty. Kitchen duty for Bijou is doing her imitation
of a mop and at 26 pounds she makes an ideal one. This gentle
giant of mine lays down and waits for me to push her across the
tiled floor. When she slides as far as I can propel her from
my standing position, she gets up, runs back to me and we do
it all over again, and again until the kitchen floor has been
thoroughly cleaned. She enjoys it so much I could probably rent
her out to do banquet halls. Bijou is my Meryl Streep.
Sassy Sophia and Fearless
Fellini. They were
about two weeks old when I rescued them from a parking lot almost
two years ago. You have to be careful bringing outdoor cats inside
because they usually have fleas and other unattractive conditions
which easily can be passed along to resident cats. At two weeks,
they were too young to be treated with a commercial medication,
but I learned garlic is a good remedy for those sorts of problems.
I dosed their formula with powdered garlic for the next couple
of weeks. The good news is they never had fleas or anything else.
The bad news is they had garlic breath and smelled like an Italian
restaurant. Hence these two short haired tabbies were christened
appropriately with Italian names.
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Sophia weighs in at a mighty four pounds of pure attitude. I should have known on her first night that she would be a handful. She was so tiny she didn't even fill the palm of my hand, yet when I reached to pick her up she would attempt to let me know how fierce she was by trying to hiss at me. The sound always fell short. Her little head bobbed in defiance of her intention and she fell back to sleep, mouth partially opened in a silent, interrupted protest. She is my Madonna.
Fellini is four times her size and follows her around like a groupie generally getting into trouble for what I have no doubt are acts instigated by Sophia. He's brawny, silly, funny, clumsy and not the brightest light on the Christmas tree. The other day he got himself stuck in one of the cat trees. He went into an opening, which was too small to accommodate his size. Somehow he managed to do it upside down. When I came into the room all I could see was his back end with flailing hind feet and tail. He managed to get free, by sliding down head first and out through a lower connected opening, on his back. Fellini is my Jethro. If you ever watched The Beverly Hillbillies, you'll understand.
Then
there are the four babies who aren't even a year old yet. I was
doing volunteer work for a cat rescue organization when they
asked if I would consider fostering four, one month old orphans.
I agreed immediately. These four siblings are the most beautiful
kittens I have ever seen and if there is anyone out there who
uses cat models, these are perfect specimens. Two are black and
white--one a perfectly marked tuxedo, the other with her face
marked like the mask from "Phantom of the Opera." The
other two are brown and white tabbies, one with superb markings
around his eyes and a white tip at the end of his tail, the other
with two white middle toes on each foot. All
are long haired with incredible tails that look like those big
fluffy feather dusters.
I knew better than to give them names when I got them. Naming
a cat is a personal affair which leads to bonding and once you
give a cat a name, you're hooked so I referred to all of them
as Baby. That is how Bonnie, Bella, Toby and Tippy became permanent
residents. You guessed it! I fell in love with all of them, so
when adoption day rolled around I couldn't make it and they don't
drive.
These
four babies have all realized that if they want to visit with
me, the best time to do so is while I am on the computer. I sit
still longer there than any other place. They seem to take turns
between laying on top of my monitor and using me for a pillow.
Although I always seem to be moving a tail or paw out of the
way in order to see my screen, I usually have at least two of
them on my person in some strange position.
Tippy lays on my lap on his back, feet straight up in the air
and his little face stuck into my armpit. Bonnie likes to knead
the tops of my thighs and usually goes to sleep with her front
half on me and other half on the table next to us. Bella prefers
perching on her hind legs like a little gopher and kneads any
where on my front torso
which is soft. She actually goes to sleep sitting up like that
and I know exactly when to rescue her from falling over backwards.
Now Toby is something else. He discovered when he was about two
months old that he loved the smell of my hair, so of course he
staked his claim on top of my head. Not only did he sit on my
head to watch the cursor on my monitor, but, when he got
tired, he also would curl around and go to sleep up there. Although
he is a little too large to comfortably fit up there now, he
satisfies himself by draping his top half over my head and goes
to sleep with the rest of him perched on my shoulder.
It's a good thing I am 10 floors up where no one can see this or they would be carting me off in one of those white jackets with the long arms.
Maybe it's a good thing I don't have an elephant after all.
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©2001 by Lynn Perrier. The photos are from Perrier's collection of snapshots of her real-life cats. The cat drawing is from IMSI's Master/Clips Collection, 1895 Francisco Blvd. East, San Rafael, CA, 94901-5506, USA.
You can comment on this column or contact Lynn Perrier with an email to: talkback@thecolumnists.com
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