When Connie and I got together, Katherine had just got a new cat which was named, for no particular reason I ever learned, Captain. Captain was about 9 months old when we came into contact. Let me assure you, neither of us was overly impressed.
I am not a cat person. Now cat people take the fact that I can get along with cats as a sign that this is not true. I can get along with Democrats too, that does not mean I believe that Roosevelt saved us all.
So Captain and I have been kind of tolerating each other for oh, about seven years now. In fact, we have tolerated each other so long now that we have formed our own kind of weird bond. Kind of like that long standing crick in your neck. It’s a continuing pain, but you would miss it were it to leave.
Captain is probably the sanest of our cats, but you best not forget that she is the mother and grandmother of crazy (Bookworm) and “oh dear heaven look at that!!!” (Adora, AKA Arrhythmia). So Captain, in a pinch, can show you her mind blowing spells of the crazy that she so liberally passed on to her progeny.
For instance, on two occasions Captain has deserted our lovely home complete with heat, air-conditioning and cat food to live in the woods by herself for months at a time. We would get an occasional glimpse of her from time to time; distant and unresponsive to our calls. She was somewhat like a land version of the Loch Ness Monster. Living on mice and surfacing occasionally for the amusement of the gawking masses. (Katherine, Connie or me).
Both times she came home thinner and quite proud of herself. Once, after one of her walk abouts, I saw her catch a mouse in our old house. Most cats play with Mr. Mouse for awhile and generally just scare the pour thing to death. Captain pounced on it, ate it whole from tail to neck, turned to me and spit the head out. “Take care of that won’t you.” She seemed to say and then walked away disdainfully.
When she has decided to stick around the house, she has just this summer decided to sleep most nights in the barn. Having met her child and grandchild I often wonder if she is not smarter than all of us on this matter.
She will leave the house about dusk, go out to the barn where her only trouble might be raccoons, foxes, the occasional coyote or snake, and sleep under an unused feed stall. Of course, being a cat, she cannot come when called in the morning. That would be so beneath her dignity. So Connie and I, after calling a number of times, feeding the other cats, calling again, feeding the dogs, calling, and checking the garden, walk out to the barn where we find Captain in the same spot each time. After some coaxing by Connie and/or Katherine (I can forget about it) she will come out look at all of us like, “Well what are you waiting for?” And go to the house to be fed.
Captain is really a quite pretty cat. Now you cat people are thinking “See he really likes cats.” Rattlesnakes are really very beautiful, but that does not mean I pet them. So my ability to see Captain’s beauty does not make me a “cat person”. She is white mostly with colors around here and there. A picture would do best I think.
Captain likes to sleep on my pillow. I have no idea why. I often come to the dining room table all set for a meal to find her sitting in my chair. Again, I have no idea why she would want to do that. Maybe she likes to hear me growl, “Get down you silly cat.” When not trying to sit in my chair or lie in my bed, the cat seems to spend a lot of time on my dresser lying atop my “Stuff Box” Connie made me for Christmas a couple years ago.
You would think that sometimes I petted her, rubbed her, and treated her like she was welcomed or like I missed her when she wasn’t here. ‘Course we all know better than that don’t we?