A semi-brief history of the cats in my life ⁷

The way I talk about Jolie may lead you to believe I’ve been a dog person my entire life. The truth? Jolie is the first canine I’ve ever taken in. I even wanted to send her back after the first few days…Scott was the one who convinced me to stick it out. “You need a dog in your life!” he exclaimed.

As is typically the case, Scott was right.

We adopted Jolie from a good friend while Scott was in graduate school. I was working from home and needed some company during the day to keep from going absolutely insane and spackling the walls with waffle batter as a result. I told Scott I absolutely had to get a cat.

He interpreted “cat” to mean “chihuahua”.

The rest is history.

While Jolie is the first pooch in my life, I grew up with a father who could double as a cat whisperer. Up until recently, we’ve had at least one cat in the house since I was seven years old. Today, I’d like to take a few moments pay homage to these feisty felines of yesteryear.

1991: Danger

Danger was named after my favorite book at the time, Danger the Dog Yard Cat. It was the story of a an Alaskan cat who rose above domestic animal stereotypes to help a pack of sled dogs complete the great Iditarod race. We took her in her soon after relocating to Washington State from Alaska. (Did the book give that part away?) She was a sweet grey stray we spotted one day behind the apartment we were living in while our new home was being built. Danger was a gem, but had the unfortunate habit of falling asleep in the wrong place at the wrong time. We assumed she fell asleep in one of the movers’ vehicles the day we moved in to our new house, as that was the last time we saw her. (R.I.P., Danger.)

1994: Nike

Yes, as in the athletic brand. (This is what happens when you permit a ten-year-old girl to name a cat.) Nike was an orange female that once again, wandered into our lives from the tough streets of Parkland. From day one, she was nothing but problems. Case in point? She is singlehandedly (or singlepawdedly?) responsible for having my parent’s house fumigated for fleas on three separate occasions. She also transmitted pin worms to one of my family members, who I’ve selected not to name for obvious reasons. Add to this her weekly habit of vomiting in a secret location, and you have a recipe for some incredibly unsanitary disaster.

And then there was the Barbies. How could I forget the Barbies? Despite having two different litter boxes and plenty of opportunity to pee outdoors, Nike prefered to crawl into the back of my sister’s closet and urinate all over her Barbie collection.

On numerous occasions.

Nike literally ruined all sixteen of our Barbie dolls. Too cheap to replace the collection, my dad shaved their hair off and boiled them in water so we might continue playing with them. While we certainly missed brushing their hair, Hayley and I simply shrugged it off and enjoyed playing with bald Barbie dolls for the next couple of years.

Needless to say, no one was too devastated the day Nike ran away.

1997: Muck Luck

Apparently, I have a thing for Alaskan-themed cat names?

After the hellcat known as Nike, it took my father a good three years to risk bringing another cat into the house. Fortunately, the small grey kitten he adopted from a local garage sale was a sweet as can be. Muck Luck was my early 13th birthday present, and we were the best of friends. She slept with me every night, and would run down the stairs to greet me when I came home from school. It was a match made in teenage kitty cat heaven.

Until Seabass came into our lives.

2000: Seabass

Seabass was scooped up by Mark on another one of his garage sale sprees. She was a soft grey color with a majestic white patch across her chest. Like he’s done with every single grey cat we’ve ever owned, Dad attempted to name her “Misty”. (Seriously, the man’s tried to bestow that moniker on at least four different cats.) Because I was a snotty fourteen-year old who though ‘Misty’ was lame–and had recently discovered the cinema masterpiece known as Dumb and Dumber–I began referring to the cat as ‘Seabass’.

Much to my delight, the name stuck.

Seabass was a good cat, aside from the fact that she wasn’t spayed. Mark took her to the vet on four different occasions in an attempt to remove her reproductive system, but with each visit, the vet informed him that Seabass was already pregnant. All in all, Seabass littered 32 kittens.

Muck Luck was not down with this.

After being an “only cat” for three years, Muck Luck didn’t adjust too well to sharing her roost with another female cat. And when the babies came? Let’s just say Muck Luck had to be quarantined to the second level of our house after the incident where she tried to actually eat the spawn of Seabass.

2003: Kitty

During my freshman year of college, Muck Luck and Seabass were eating by a racoon within three days of each other. This is still so strange to me, as I was halfway across the country when it happened, and never really got closure. Needless to say, I was surprised when I came home from my first year at college to discover a new cat in the house.

Apparently, Mark had decided he still wanted feline companionship without having to actually pay for any cat food. This is how he ended up stealing the neighbor’s outdoor cat.  “Kitty” was spending upwards of 20 hours a day in our house.

Obviously, my dad would let her outside to go to the bathroom and eat food at the neighbor’s house. Over the course of two years, I don’t think he spent a single dime on food for that cat. “I provide it with love“, he argued.

The strangest part is that our neighbors were fully aware of the fact that my dad had stolen their cat. When they moved, they explained that they would have let him keep it, if it weren’t for the fact that their grandchildren were aways so excited to see it when they came for a visit.

Darn.

*****

You can see that while I’ve certainly become a dog lover as of late, my heart will always first belong to the pussy cat. For years, I’ve pestered Scott about adding a adorable little kitten to our family. “Once we have a house and a yard…” he’d always sigh.

I think you know where this is going.

In preparation for our new house, I’ve not only been shopping for discount area rugs and industrial-inspired light fixtures…I’ve also been shopping for cats! Needless to say, I was over the moon when Scott’s stepmother sent me the following text yesterday afternoon.

Yes!! Yes I would! Truly, no one could resist a cute little face like this, right?

Wrong. Apparently Scott has no problem whatsoever resisting it. And Jolie? Let’s just say she’s paw-painting picket signs for her anti-cat protest as we speak.

But not to worry — there’s no need to fret. I have a fool-proof strategy up my sleeve.

(All will be revealed on Monday…muahahaha!)

(Apologies. I promise I’ll never do the scheming cat lady laugh again.)

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