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Thursday, January 31, 2013

Notta Cat Fez

The other morning I was walking down my walkway to my car. It was a beautiful spring day in January... Ah, you just gotta love Oklahoma weather.  A large cat high tailed it from beneath the carport and headed across the street. A younger gray cat froze in place as if he didn't know which way to high tail it. He slunk back from me as I got in my car (obviously he had heard nasty rumors about my driving), and watched me drive away. I didn't think much of it, the cat population on our street has taken a dramatic upswing in the last year or so and I had no idea who had a cat and who didn't except I knew for sure I didn't. Last year after being the target of a cat with behavioral issues, I gave my Persian, Morph the Cat, to my son's girlfriend. I had swore off cats for good, even though I'd had one since I left home. Nope, no more cats for me... No more cat litter, cat fuzz, or cat puke.... I was cat free. When I came home later that evening, little Mr. Gray cat popped up out of the ground cover that blanketed my garden. He had made himself a little cave and looked very happy to see me. Now, just because I don't currently have a cat, doesn't mean I hate cats... I don't. So naturally, his great big round eyes the color of jade tugged st heartstrings just a tad as I made my way inside. I came in the house, laid down my stuff and walked back outside to see what was up with the little visitor. When I came out, he came running up toward me, but then backed away suddenly shy. He seemed wild, and clearly still a kitten, but obviously old enough to be on his own. He was just your everyday run of the mill cat... Nothing designer or Cream Brulee about him, yet he was so cute. I stood still and watched the inner debate "Should I get closer... Should I run away", he seemed to have going on. Finally I did what any tender hearted person would do, I went in the house, grabbed a can of chicken and some milk. I didn't want the poor thing to starve, and he looked like he had no place else to go. When he saw me come out of the house with my hands full of wonderful smelling catty things, the stomach seemed to win the inner debate. He wound around my ankles as I tried to walk to the carport. He suddenly didn't seem a bit shy about showing affection. I knelt down with his food. He waited until I had stood and taken a step back before he attacked the chicken and milk. While he ate his meal, I began my own inner debate.... "I don't really want a cat.... But, just because I feed a cat doesn't make the cat mine.... Mike will be very upset if I get a cat... Well, just because you're feeding the cat, doesn't mean you even have to tell Mike about the cat.... It could be my not-my-cat cat that just happens to hang out outside our house. I can play innocent, and in a way I really will be because I don't know whose cat it is or where it came from." There! Inner debate solved. I would feed the cat, yet not get attached to it and I wouldn't tell Mike. I could honestly say I had Notta cat. Having solved that debate, I ran back in the house to change clothes. When I heard Mike pull up, I peeked through the blinds to see if he spied the cat and it's food under the carport. He got out of his truck and didn't seem to notice... Typical man!  Every day I watched out the window to see if he would realize there was a cat now living under the carport. One night I thought for sure he saw Notta cat, but didn't react to it at all. Saturday afternoon, he walked through the kitchen as he took out the trash..... "I take it you've met Fez" he said more than asked.  "Fez? Fez?.... Are you talking about the cat? Is that YOUR cat outside?!?!" Then he told me how he had rescued it and brought it home from work. It was one out of a litter that had been born under a motorcycle crate at the Honda Shop and the only one he had successfully tamed enough to pick up.  So, all this time, I thought I was being sneaky by feeding Notta cat, when really he was the sneaky one. Well, I've never!... Well, actually have, on several occasions, which is exactly where he learned such stealthy tactics. I've been tripped up by my own trick.

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