Hello, Lovely Tatters!
It's a stinkin' hot day outside, I have work to do inside and I'm just not inspired to do it. I'll get to it, but I have to get my work hat on and I just don't think it will fit without another cup of coffee, so here I am.
I make no secret about having pets, but I've had a great many inquiries about what I mean about a "geriatric cat". Seems a lot of my knotty friends have a furry lap warmer and are always looking to see what someone else's looks like.
Well, here is the story of Mrs. Katz. This is her, in her favourite relaxation pose:
In case you can't see it, she has one wee white toe and her underside has white markings that look remarkably like a little teeny weeny bikini.
Mrs. Katz will be 13 years old next month, but you'd never know it. She still hunts, fights with the neighbour's yearling cat (they cannot tolerate each other), and she is rarely home during the day in the summer. She even has a boyfriend, although I don't know why as Mrs. Katz's "fun in the sun" days were taken care of by the vet shortly after she arrived at our house.
I "inherited" her when she was about 4 months old. She was the tiniest little bit of fluff you ever saw and even at that small age, a complete and fully realized diva. She demanded food at the most unforgivable hours of the night, loved to lay on my neck when I was sleeping, and followed me like a shadow. Mind, I wasn't supposed to NOTICE that there was a tiny black puff-ball following me, but she did.
This is her supervising the cleaning of the bathroom:
I wasn't supposed to know she had quietly slinked her way into the bathtub, but you know that feeling when you think someone is watching you? Yeah...
My most remarkable memory of her is of when she fought off three coyotes from under our step. Yes, three. We live in a very rural area, and it's nothing for the coyotes to gang up on housepets and other animals.
I heard a really awful ruckus outside the door, and when I went to investigate, I saw three coyotes desperately trying to get at something under the step. Suddenly this little black paw comes out from under that step and I think it did some real damage because that coyote yipped away across the road and into the field. Another swipe with that paw and the second coyote yipped, but it wasn't until another swipe with that same paw had it shake its head (spraying blood on my step) and it, too, ran into the field behind his friend.
By this time, I had realized it was my sweet kitty underneath that step, and these beasties were bent on making her their lunch! I grabbed the broom and beat the third one away, and when I called to her, Mrs. Katz came into the house in a big hurry.
I know I shouldn't, but I still have to giggle at this 8-lb. cat standing stiff-legged and wild-eyed in the middle of my kitchen, tail straight in the air, and every hair in her coat standing straight up on end. Her eyes were the size of loonies, and she looked like a black cotton ball with eyes glued on it.
I've not had to fight off any critters trying to make a meal of her, but she's still one tough little beastie. She's my cuddle-buddy at night and purrs so loud I think she's going to burst, but sometimes it's the only way I can get to sleep. It's an excuse to make sure she's in the house at night.
Anyway, I really should go get my work done. Do you have any lap-warmers that help you?
Happy Tatting!
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