Shaggy Cat Story

Shaggy Cat Story
by RonB52
03/03/2009, 9:10 AM #

Yesterday was a frustrating day to try to practice law through a computer. Westlaw was broken until about 4 p.m. Moments after that, our firewall malfuctioned, making the entire Internet virtually inaccessible.

Imagine me, 21st Century lawyer dude, having to walk to the actual law library and pull actual books from the shelves! Lucky for Westlaw, my tender little fingers managed to avoid paper cuts.

In times like those I try to remind myself how spoiled we have become by the speed of today's computers. I was going to write something about bringing home that first Commodore 64, connecting it to its tape drive and a small color tv, and staring expectantly at it while it stared back expectantly at me. Ready:_

Fortunately for all of us, I was not able to find a satifactory conclusion for that story, but I remembered a quite different one from the same small off-campus apartment that the cat-lovers among us might enjoy. Really. Both of you. I wonder if you've ever seen anything like it.

Jasmine was a rescue cat. She looked like a Maine Coon -- long hair, tri color, feathered ears. She was about 10 years old and weighed 14 pounds at her peak. She had lived with a little old lady whom I never knew, the friend of a friend, until she was preceded in death by her human. We let her move in with us.

Jasmine, it turned out, had a bladder stone the size of a peach pit, and eventually the stone had to come out. While she was in the hospital, we adopted a very young kitten: Cato, a tiny, sleek black short hair.

As one expects, Cato in our little apartment took on the role of a quantum particle. Jasmine, also following the standard script, hissed and lunged. We were patient, slowly trying to introduce them, but keeping them in separate rooms during the day when we were gone.

One day Jasmine was sitting on my wife's lap as Cato buzzed around the apartment shifting from one energy state to another. In a moment of inattention, we let Jasmine dart toward Cato. She went straight for the neck. She was gone and we couldn't catch up, couldn't stop her, could only hope there weren't too many pieces to pick up. They disappeared from view.

We looked around and under the furniture in the dining room. Nothing. We searched in the kitchen. They were nowhere in sight. There was nowhere else they could have gone. Knowing it was silly to try, we starting opening the low kitchen cupboards, most of which were filled only with our early post-graduate poverty.

Sure enough, that's where Jasmine had taken Cato, and that's where we found them. Jasmine had one paw on Cato's shoulder, holding him down, while her mouth was busy...

...bathing him.

For several amusing weeks after this, we, and Jasmine, allowed Cato to attempt to nurse. Once we realized that this was roughly as irritating to Jasmine as it was amusing to us, we discouraged it.

We figured that Jasmine must have though her surgery was a C-section.

ronb52

A Good Pet

meow meow meow meow

I lived with a Nuzzler

Why this claim is iffy at best.
by electric fence
08/01/2007, 4:00 PM

I lived with a Nuzzler. Not just any nuzzler - this cat nuzzled like some people smoke: any time's the right time to light up. Once while nuzzling me he nuzzled so hard that he rolled right off my shoulder and straight to the floor; thud. He nuzzled me more than I kissed him and that's a lot of kisses. Based on an average of about 100 kisses a day over a period of 10 years he was kissed .. well do that math - this cat nuzzled me more than that number - take this as Gospel. Now imagine if I was dying: well there you go, proving this theory of Nuzzling is iffy at best. Primarily, cats 'nuzzle' to mark. Unless your cat really, really likes you, a lot - which I admit is possible; possibly, your cat really likes you as much as my extraordinarily smart cat liked me and so nuzzles you beyond marking. Okay maybe it's possible and possibly more than possible that a cat can sniff death. I could smell my cat dying, literally - cancer just fucking stinks. I will never forget.