THE CATS OF OUR LIVES

For some reason, cats didn’t necessarily resonate with the Karlberg family as well or as much as our dogs have. That’s not to say we don’t remember them, that they didn’t have their own Christmas stocking for Santa to fill (okay, I did finally take to just changing the name), or get treats and special care just like our dogs. But, they didn’t follow us around, act cute or capture the attention of other family and friends.  

John had Tiger when we first met. Tiger went with us to our first apartment and then to our home. He was a clever cat and always wondered why John’s mother yelled at him when she got home. Of course he hadn’t been sleeping on the antique rocking chair. It must have been a breeze that made it rock, not Tiger jumping off. Tiger always slept with us because he had always slept with John…who was I to kick him off the bed. 

Dingy was a spur-of-the-moment purchase. We were walking by a pet store on Aurora and this gray striped kitten was making all the other kittens miserable by flying around the cage and pouncing and jumping. We paid an entire $1.98 plus tax for the kitten that became Dingy…because he was Dingy. He settled down after a while and was probably the only cat we’ve had that really liked to sit on our laps. 

Choo Choo was a rescue cat. He was black and white and his fur was long. We had wonderful times holding him down and cutting off the big matted fur blobs every spring. Brushing didn’t help with that at all. My favorite story about Choo Choo was his first and only bird catch. John watched through the window. The cat was old and slow and big. There was a flock of little birds pecking in the flowerbed. Choo Choo got down in the grass (as though they couldn’t see him) and carefully and slowly stalked those birds. Finally, he was close enough and made this huge jump high into the air. All the little birds flew away while Choo Choo was in the air except for one which flew straight up into his paws. John said Choo Choo seemed amazed to have actually caught a bird. He did it justice, leaving only the feet and the beak. 

Fred or Fuad as John referred to him was brought over from the farm in Idaho. I don’t remember him as a particularly friendly cat. John remembers driving over Fuad in the driveway. The cat was sleeping under his front tire and John didn’t see him. Apparently all it did was smoosh him a bit because he was fine and lived another few years. 

Alley was a gold kitten and resembled Tiger a lot. Some friends gave him to us and he was fine until I took him in to be neutered. This apparently pissed him off no end because the nice kitty I took in came home as the cat from hell.  No way would he let you pet him and if you even tried, you needed bandages. Alley just sort of hung around and let us feed him, came inside when he wanted and stayed away when he wanted. Alley was my least favorite cat. 

Someone I worked with brought a few kittens in to work. I liked the little white one and said I’d take her home for Thor. Somehow, between the time she made the office visit and came back to go home with me, her personality changed and she wasn’t as friendly. Thor loved her and named her Kit-Kat. One day she didn’t come home and Thor, unfortunately, found what happened to her. When he took his usual route through the greenbelt behind the fence, he found her…most likely a coyote victim. 

So there we were 17.5 years ago, a home without a cat. John’s birthday arrived and so did his present from AJ and Angie…a feral kitten which he named Sven. This cat took forever to settle in, but never became the lap sitter, human lover we wanted him to be. In fact, all I had to do was enter the room and he ran off as though I’ve got a big broom with which to chase him. Sven also didn’t like strangers either and when company arrived, he disappeared under one of the beds and stayed there until the house was silent again.  

It’s only been in the last six months or so that Sven has turned into a pretty nice cat. That may be because he finally gave up looking for Mia. You see, he got all his pets and rubs from her. Back and forth under her chin. Holding still and purring as Mia nibbled the top of his head. Anyway, Sven began climbing up and sitting on John’s lap in the evening, but continued to ignore me and dashing from the room if I entered.  

That all changed shortly after Christmas when I offered him some catnip in his bed. Now Sven is a catnip addict and I am his connection. I get up in the morning and he greets me with big meows and some of them even sound as though he’s saying, “now.” He wants his fix and won’t leave me alone until I open the bottle and sprinkle a pinch in his bed. 

It’s the same thing in the afternoon, but I refuse to give it to him then. I make him wait until after dinner. And, Sven’s also taken Mia’s place at table. Whatever we’re having for dinner, Sven wants some. If it’s meat or fish, he’s a happy guy, even if he just finished his cat food. If it’s something like pizza or casserole, imagine his disgust as he turns up his nose and struts away. 

Sven’s become quite thin except for his tummy. John speculates this may be his last winter, but who knows. Catnip seems to have rejuvenated him, so perhaps I’ll give in and let him have it three times a day. 

That brings us to Zooee, a small black kitten that was destined to become a black spot on Phinney Avenue North. She was rescued by a zoo co-worker who wanted to find her a home. I took her and held her and she immediately began to purr…so, I brought her home to be my kitty and named her Zooee because of where she was found. 

I wanted her to be an indoor cat, but while I was at work, John began to let her outside. He also began to feed her dinner before I could get home…well, she was so hungry (like she was going to die of hunger in 30 more minutes). So, you guessed it, Zooee is John’s cat. 

Zooee was around for Mia’s last few years and John thinks she believes she is a dog. Every morning when John goes to feed the chickens, Zooee goes out with him and then comes back in just as Mia did. If John goes down the driveway to get the mail or paper, Zooee accompanies him just like Mia used to do. Zooee also sleeps on John’s bed and keeps the back of his knees warm. She only comes to my bed to jump on it and wake me up to let her out if she can’t get John to respond.  

I can pet her as much as I want provided she is on the bed or the couch and it has to be on her terms. She won’t sit on my lap or close to me, but she purrs very loudly as I rub her back and tummy. I can also pick her up provided I have my hand in such a way that her front legs are beneath my hand and my arm is pressing her  body to my side. Even then and even though she’s purring away, she manages to growl and let me know when enough is enough. 

Eventually Sven and then much much later Zooee will join our other family members under the apple tree. And while we may not get any additional pets to join everyone there, John has expressed his wish to have his ashes sprinkled under the apple tree when his time comes. I think that sounds like a fine idea and wouldn’t mind being there as well. If we aren’t still living here then, perhaps one of the boys could sneak over the fence late one night and spread us around. The idea of joining the dogs and cats of our lives for one never-ending hugs playdate sounds perfect.