The Thanksgiving Cat - Part 1

A happy arrangement: many people prefer cats to other people, and many cats prefer people to other cats. ~Mason Cooley, US Aphorist

As I write this weekly essay, I am watching our male, black cat, Ram, all curled up in a ball high up on the arm of the sofa. (Tap, tap, tap. . sounds of typing on keyboard), trying to write something profound about Thanksgiving, reaching inward, trying to go into the deep recesses of the soul, searching out original concepts, well-wrought phrases.

Tap. . .tap. . .how can he sleep so peacefully with such total relaxation. . .tap...tap. . .and yet wake up, stretch and destroy another vase so quickly, I muse, for the thousandth time. Tap. . tap. . .How did we wind up with this cat who is so adoringly beautiful and loving and so maddeningly independent and stubborn.

Tap. . .Oh let's just write an article about "that darn cat." He 's probably controlling me anyway in his catty dreams. Besides, he's convinced that if he's not God, he is at least the emissary of godhead on the planet.

I actually wanted another dog (having had many cats in the past), and Joyce did not want another animal at all, much less a cat. Being blessed and cursed with a world-class sniffer, she hates litter boxes and abhors feline aromas.

Then our friend, Patty, called from western North Carolina. Seems she had been driving back from Asheville to her home high in the Great Smokies when she saw a tiny black blur out of the corner of her eye playing in the median of the freeway. She pulled off the road and walking back along the highway, discovered, as she suspected, a black kitten playing merrily with twigs and shrubs as cars and tractor trailers swept by at 65 or 70 miles an hour.

To make a long story short, she rescued the cat, checked with animal shelters to try to locate the kitten's family. Unable to find its family and having a full household of adult cats and dogs herself and with a husband threatening divorce if she took in any more creatures, she called us.

Tap. . .tap. . .Why us?

"You only have a dog," she told us. And she added so very sweetly, "I know that you guys will give him a good home. Besides, you're such good people," she added in what I now realize was a shameless attempt to get us to adopt the rescued kitten and soothe her feline-threatened marriage.

Well, blush my cheeks, shut my mouth and kiss my grits. "Aw, shucks," I said (I'm a Leo and flattery will get you everywhere!). After consulting with Joyce, we said yes to Patty, after what probably should have been more consideration. . .a lot more consideration.
Our fate sealed, we picked up the kitten at the Portland airport. Yes, he jetted 3,000 miles from Asheville, N.C. in the southeastern USA to Portland Oregon in the Pacific Northwest. After peering in his travel cage to make sure that he had survived the flight, we drove him home to Beaverton.

Tap. . .tap . .Placing his container in our utility room, I opened the door and placed my hand inside and pulled him out. Poor little thing, I thought. Here he's traveled all these miles. He must be scared to death.

But what's this! He's purring! Loudly! A three thousand mile flight, a twenty mile ride by auto, and a strange hand picking him up and an eight-week old kitten is purring so happily!

As a student of comparative religion and literature, right then and there I decided his name should be Ram, which is the name of a mythical Indian King and the subject of the Indian masterpiece, the Ramayana. Ram, who led an army of animals against a demon to rescue his queen, Sita, is also one of the many names of God on the Indian subcontinent. Purring is a kind of special sound, like a "name of god" for a cat. Some devotees meditate on the name of god. Since Ram was so centered and fearless as to purr while being held by a complete stranger after such an awesome journey, we felt that he was a special creature indeed.

Tap. . tap. . .tap. . .Indeed, he is! Now that we have survived his "kittenhood" and adolescence, our attitude toward him has mellowed somewhat as he has mellowed into "cathood."

Yay, verily, yay! With a blowing of ancient horns and beating of sacred gongs (probably from Egypt where his Cattiness was worshipped), we offer sincere thanks to all Powers and Dominions and calling all angels to witness our testimonials of gratitude for this remarkable cat, who so richly changed the lives that we thought we deserved before he came into our lives. (Whew!!!)

Tap. . .tap. . .Rambo. You see, Ram did not hold up too long-as a name, I mean. After his
his first broad jump from the arm of a chair with a bounce off the back of the dog to the sofa, we knew that we actually had been entrusted with "Rambo," after the Sylvester Stallone character with the superhuman muscles and reflexes.
Tap. . .tap. . .Sorry, I digress. Here is a list of the things about Rambo for which we are grateful to God (or whomever). Note that I have included the good and bad. . .O shut my mouth again. . .I mean the positive and negative and, Oh yes, it's all good in the end (crossing my fingers).

We thank you, O lord that:

Rambo has finally grown up and no longer climbs on my shoulder with claws extended fully in order to play with the hanging planter. Oh, and thank you for taking care of the spirit of the plant that died shredded and partially eaten. I know also that it was You helping me sweep up the pieces of expensive, enameled pottery; many thanks.

He does not actually play in traffic though on one shameful night we did contemplate leaving all the doors and windows open (because it was so hot, of course).

He manages to play so gracefully and easily with almost any object in our house. Thanks to Ram our creativity has increased many times over. He has taught us, for example, that drapes not only afford us privacy but also make excellent swings. Those swings may need to be replaced soon, but, hey, it was time for new ones anyway.

Ram has helped us with our material attachments. I mean, who cares about a Waterford crystal goblet anyway. They're overpriced and Aunt Betty has passed on now and will never know that we no longer have a complete set. I guess it was one of a kind, but that's life. You cannot expect delicate glasses to survive for very long anyway in this catastrophic world much less the gentle pull of a playful kitty on a linen tablecloth.

He has helped us so very much with our emotional problems, especially anger management. God, I used to really get upset when he jumped down on my chest from the head of the bed at 3 o'clock in the morning. But, I have settled down now and no longer require tranquilizers in order to get back to sleep. Now, I get up and go to work without dozing all day long; My My boss has really been quite understanding.

He supervises us so closely in the kitchen. Really, I don't know how he manages it since he has never had his tail stepped on while stepping gracefully betwen my feet with every step that I take. He seemed so glad to see me when I returned home with splints and knee braces. Tap. . .tap. . .Well, I suppose it's time to go now. Rambo is st4art3ing to wa9lk oTn the k0eys and is purrY7ing as h7e does so. Rubb9Ying his fa(ce ag(&Yainst my haAnds.

There, he's gone now. Thank you, Rambo. I really did need to rewrite. . .tap. . .tap. . .
--------------------------
In researching this article, I came cross this excellent site in the United Kingdom, Cats Online.
If you enjoyed this article, you may also wish to read the sequel, The Thanksgiving Cat: Part II - The Leavening.