Journal of a Living Lady #120

 

Nancy White Kelly

 

 

 

            Buddy and our cat, Snowball, do not belong to the Mutual Admiration Society.  They tolerate each other only because of their affection for me. I feed them both.

            Neither of them can stand to see me in bed past a certain “getting up” time.  Buddy knows how to subtly lure me out of bed. He fixes my coffee and delivers it along with the morning paper to my chair in the den which is next to his. Snowball doesn’t know the word “subtle.” When she thinks it is high time I get up, all twenty pounds of her comes running at full speed and pounces onto the bed. She generally hits her target which is in the middle of my stomach. Who could sleep after that?

            Husbands and cats are strange creatures. Mature, but reasonably handsome men like my Buddy, will shampoo and comb ten strands of top hair eleven different ways. Cats will perpetually groom themselves with cat spit for nine life spans.

Though normally kind and helpful, Buddy sometimes takes a stubborn streak.  I know what works and doesn’t work with him. Banana pudding works best. Snowball can be stubborn too, but banana pudding doesn’t work at all with her. Caviar on a china saucer works its charm unless she is in one of her moods. 

Sometimes Snowball will stand with her tail in the doorway several minutes trying to decide if she really wants in or out. Once she chooses,  I make the door respond accordingly. Usually she reverses her first decision in sixty seconds or less. If I am not immediately sensitive to her newest directional demand, she can and will meow in torturous mega-decibels.  Snowball knows how to get her way or at least revenge.

Buddy and Snowball reluctantly share the queen-size bed with me. When the cat is on my side, she cuddles up closely and I stroke her thick white fur while she purrs contently. If the only open space is on Buddy’s side, Snowball insists on lying down with her arrogant rear in his face.

There are some positives worth noting. Both Buddy and the cat have impressive imaginations. Snowball can take the bath tub plug and pretend it is a hockey puck. Buddy calls me Cinderella.

            Recently I read where a new marriage nearly came apart because of a spiteful cat. Mike and Sue were both offered good jobs in a city up North. The bride went ahead a few days earlier and rented an apartment. Mike was to arrive three days later with the second car and Sue’s premarital feline named Black Jack. Moving can be such an exciting time. I am sure it was a mere over-sight on Sue’s part. She failed to warn Mike that Black Jack the cat did not like to ride in cars.

Mike eventually showed up in the new city. He was wet, angry and four hours late.

It seems that Mike put Black Jack in a pet carrier to make the journey. Just as Mike pulled onto the expressway, Black Jack pooped big time. The quality of air in the car quickly diminished. Mike pulled the vehicle over to the shoulder of the road to clean out the carrier. While in the process of dumping the cat’s excretion by the roadside, Black Jack hit the automatic door lock. On purpose or accidentally, I do not know.

For the next two hours, in the pouring rain, Mike tried to get Black Jack to unlock the doors. In the end, AAA was called. I can’t help but wonder if Mike, Sue, and Black Jack are still together.

Buddy and I have been married thirty-six mostly wonderful years. We have seen several cats come and go for various reasons. However, if I had to choose between them, it would be a no-brainer. I like Snowball, but I adore Buddy. Besides, he rides better in a car.

 

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