On Cats ...

Stinkerbelle Stanley

In the great cat vs. dog debate, there's no question on which side I land.  Anyone that knows me knows I love all creatures - even snakes and some spiders.  And though I have a special fondness for dogs - I just prefer to be owned by a cat.

Cats are easier.  You can put down food for them to eat when they want, they deliver their poop neatly in a box, and they very rarely require much attention.  Dogs, on the other hand are incredibly needy.  They want attention, you have to walk them in the rain or sleet or snow, they fill your yard with piles of steaming poo, and they can't be trusted with more than one meal at a time - or your favorite pair of shoes. 

I've been the property of some great cats in my life.  There was Woody’s first cat - a little gray tabby named Teazer, a pretty cool cat.  Teazer liked to talk, and we often had long conversations.  To the casual listener, it sounded as if we knew what the other was saying, and maybe we did.  Once she was spayed, she was convinced she was a tomcat.  She spent her nights prowling the neighborhood and her days curled up in dirty laundry.  

For those who aren't familiar, the Amish call the black and white cats, magpies.  Many people call them tuxedo cats.  Just like the magpie bird, the magpie cat has the black saddle on their backs and a pure, white belly - and they talk ... a lot - too much sometimes!

I kept one of Teazer's offspring, a fluffy little magpie named Smudge.  She was so sweet and lovable.  But, unlike most magpies, the quietest cat I've ever owned.  She never caused any problems, and unlike her mom, didn't like the outside world.  Anytime she ended up outside - she would stand at the door, screaming "Ow Mee Ow" which sounded a lot like "Let me out."  That was the only time she voiced her opinion on anything.

I lost Teazer and Smudge when Woody and I left his dad.  We had to stay with my parents until we could get on our feet.  My mother, aside from hating cats - is allergic.  I know - how can anyone hate something so fuzzy and sweet?

I thought my heart was going to break as I put Smudge in a box for her new owners.  She looked at me with those huge gold eyes, confused by what was going on.  But, she and Teazer went to live on a farm where they would have lots of friends and room to roam.  I've often wondered if Smudge adjusted to the outside world.  But, I won't let myself dwell on it - I know she was with good people and they helped her with the transition.

After Woody and I left Mom and Dad's, we found a great little house of our own.  Woody was alone in the afternoons for about an hour, so we adopted Stinkerbelle Stanley.  Stinker was a very unique cat - what I called a tortoise shell calico tuxedo.  I won't lie - she was the love of my life, my soul mate.  My friend, now my husband, often said she was my "familiar."  I let him get by with the witch joke - because in many ways, it was true. She was originally meant to be Woody's cat, but, like all cats - she bonded with the person that fed her and cleaned her box.  There is so much more to say about my little Stinker, but she deserves her own story.

When Stinky was about 2 years old - we adopted Destiny.  Destiny came from UALR - her Mama was a campus cat.  We petitioned the Dean to start a feral cat colony, but he turned us down (evidently he was a dog person).  So a group of cat lovers banded together and made plans for the mama cat and her kittens.  When the kittens were old enough to be weaned, we trapped mama cat.  A local vet spayed "Little Mama" at no cost.  The next morning, we set traps for the kittens. 

Now, I prefer female cats - for a multitude of reasons, but mostly because males will spray your house.  I chose Destiny in advance because she was a tortoise shell calico, assuring she would be a female.  For weeks before the trappings, I would go to the building where our little feline family lived, stand in the bushes, and talk to her.  Everyone could see me, but not Destiny.  Soon, the rumor started on campus that I finally snapped and began conversing with foliage!

All the other kittens would scram - but not Destiny.  She would sit and listen.  She never approached, but listened none the less.  I thought it was because we had a special bond.  I found out later it was because she wasn't very smart.  I often characterized her as having the IQ of a bag of rice.  And, as she was so simple minded, she was the first kitten trapped.  She came to live with us and became Woody's cat.  Incidentally, Stinker hated her, but they co-existed for many years.

Stinkerbelle Stanley died July 7th, 2010 at the age of 16 1/2.  I was devastated.  Surprisingly, so was Destiny.  For weeks, she would walk around our little house and cry, looking for Stinker.  Every time she did - my heart would break all over again, and I would cry along with her.

I was laid off, and made the decision to move in with my future husband.  A friend of a friend was looking for a house cat.  Her daughter had a multitude of outside cats - but she wanted her own ball of fur.  When she and Destiny met, it was love at first sight.  So Destiny went to her new home and became the queen of the castle.  I felt good about the decision, still do.  She had always taken a back seat to Stinker, and needed to be the alpha cat for a change.  I get reports every month or so:  Destiny and her new mom are doing great - a match made in heaven.

After a few months in Little Rock, I began to miss having a cat.  I have always had a feline at my side throughout my adult life - and I felt terribly empty.  There was a hole in my heart caused by Stinker's death, and though I knew I could never replace my soul mate - I had to have that feline presence. My husband would take me to local shelters and I would pet all the cats and kittens.  I called it my weekly dose of fur and purr.

The empty feeling was too great, and the gaping hole only grew.  I was getting depressed, and began missing Stinkerbelle more and more.  The tears came more often, and lasted longer.  I cried for hours when my husband was at work.

We arrived home after one of our trips to visit my surrogate furry friends, and as I got out of the car - it finally came crashing down.  I turned to my husband, stomped my foot and screamed, "Moyer, I need pussy."  The neighbors, sitting on their porch, were stunned at my outburst - and giggled a bit.  My husband got tickled and laughed until he cried.

Maggie The Cat

The next week, I went to a local shelter and there she was ... a little magpie just waiting for me.  I picked her up, held her nose to nose, and asked her if she wanted to come home with me.  She answered in the affirmative and within minutes, her adoption was arranged. 

I told her she could never replace Stinkerbelle and that she had some pretty big paw prints to fill.  She instantly wormed her way into my heart.  Thus began the saga of Maggie The Cat.