Long-term houseguest making himself ‘purrfectly’ at home
As I write this, a black and white cat is on my lap. Lest you envision a tranquil scene where the subject is curled comfortably and purring softly, I will inform you that at the moment he is standing with his tail in my face while his front paws slowly knead tiny holes in my blue jeans and quite likely my thighs as well.
When not engaged in actively drawing blood, he tends to circle, roll, bump my elbow and rub his drippy nose against my forearm until I pause to palm his head for a moment and include an obligatory scratch behind the ears. If I neglect to take action in a timely manner, he invariably reaches a white paw up to the keyboard to add his own commentary.
Cat lovers may fawn and say, “Aw, that’s so nice that John’s cat keeps him company while he is working.” That much is true. My cat Moses has been a longtime staple in my weekly writing for all of 12 years. Unfortunately, this is not my cat.
Frequent readers may recall how I recently made a whirlwind trip to Utah, out by car and back by airliner, to deliver my sojourning youngest daughter to her latest adventure as an intern with the National Park Service. Because her high desert accommodations are more or less dormitory style, “emotional support cats” are not a part of the contract. Therefore, One-Nostril Newt, a character Sylvia mostly refers to as her son, will hang out here for the next six to eight months.
In stating that I saw this coming, I can claim spot-on prescience and confess pathetic weakness at the very same time. I had railed against this cat as a kitten when he, along with a litter of siblings, was discovered under the neighbor’s shed — the latest spinoffs of a prodigiously prolific momma cat everyone in our neighborhood had been trying to capture for a year.
The new litter gave us a chance to catch momma cat right along with the entire basket of fluff balls, and we successfully spayed and rehomed her as planned, but the kittens were kittens! And seemingly every woman in the neighborhood stepped up for a baby. My next-door sister actually took two!
Sylvia, who happened to be home from college for a visit at the time, scooped up the mutant runt (thus the name), and the rest is history — a history that includes me swearing on all things sacred and holy that cat “will never, ever live in this house!”
Now it would appear One-Nostril Newt is not only living in my house, but also has (at least temporarily) taken over my lap!
My old boy Moses may have something to say about this eventually. (Happy birthday, Sylvia! We miss you!)
Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email John at jlorson@alonovus.com.