A Tale of Two Kitties

I love cats. I never realized this until my girlfriend brought home two cats (which she said she got for me, but I think SHE really wanted them).

A couple of years ago she brought home our first kitten, whom we named Spot. She's mostly white with an orange spot on her back and we were watching Star Trek: The Next Generation nearly every night (Lt. Commander Data's cat is also named Spot) so the name just sorta fit. My girlfriend, Sarah was working as a radio DJ and had a remote broadcast in some backwoods hole in the hills of East Tennessee and a woman was giving away cats from the trunk of her car in a Wal-Mart parking lot. The woman said she would just have to drown any kittens left at the end of the day. Obviously she had torched her PETA card when she discovered it wasn't a gift certificate for a free meal at Taco Bell after all. Spot is very quiet and rarely even meows unless she's lecturing her "babies", which are small mice (or anything fluffy) of various sizes strewn about the house. She often times stragetically places them like little landmines on the floor for us to step on in the morning while we're stumbling around still half asleep. Sometimes she arranges them in strange semi-circular patterns and tries to teach them the delicate art of being a cat. In her spare time she has been trying to learn how to use doorknobs, which she frantically paws at. She will also close doors behind her when she wants to be left alone, of course now she just needs to figure how to get back out once she's in. Although she didn't like for us to pet her or have much to say that all changed when we got cat number two.

Bandit, our second cat came from a fellow employee of Sarah's when she was still in the radio biz. I had decided that I wanted a lap cat and Spot was just NOT going to be that cat so Sarah thought it would be a good time to add a new addition to our small family. When we got Bandit he was very small, cuddly...and stinky, which Spot took notice of immediately. On this rare occassion Spot was actually verbal, of course she was hissing, but it was a start. A few cat baths later Spot still wasn't sure what to think of him, but at least he didn't smell like poo. I named him Bandit because he has (or had, rather) a black pattern on his otherwise gray face that looked like a mask. Keeping with the "giving cats names for dogs" theme worked out as a bonus too. Bandit is an amazingly agile cat and he loves jumping up on the banister and walking the length back and forth. He's also quite fond of leaping to the top edge of the bathroom door when it's open and I'm always amazed at how he manages it. I'm convinced that he understands the word "cute" because anytime we use that word he is compelled to show us his tummy, which demands to be scratched. He loves for us to pet him and hold him, to the point that Spot finally took notice and wanted some of the attention for herself. Now that we have Bandit she has become a much more loveable cat and isn't such a snob all the time.

It's strange when you're old enough to have children yet you still don't and you start treating your pets like they are your very own kids. My saddest moment was when we had Spot spayed and she ripped out nearly all of her stitches. They had to sew her back up again and I made a tearful vist at the veterinarian to make sure she was alright...they still remember me in that office just for that simple visit. My happiest day was when Bandit hopped in my lap, just liked I always hoped he would. I talk to both my cats all the time, although Sarah claims they don't understand a word I'm saying, but that doesn't stop me. I never talk to them about anything important, just typical questions like "Have you been good today?", "Are you hungry?", "Spot, is that your vomit on the floor?". The point is that I know what I'm saying and it makes me feel good somehow, like I'm letting them know in some small way how much they are loved and cherished. I guess all I'm looking for is a meow once in awhile.