(Paraphrase Robert Louis Stevenson)
Here I am, up on my ICloud, with the latest GPS version focusing in on Momma’s front garden…Oh, there she is, on her hands and knees, almost completely concealed by those big daisy bushes… Momma, they are out of control…single petal, double petal, triple, quadruple, white petals, white and yellow, every shade of yellow petals but at least they are just in one corner of the garden.
The Bachelor Buttons, they have just taken over the whole front garden….it looks like a Refugee Camp for Bachelor Buttons. You got to step up and stomp out, Momma. Show those Bachelor Buttons who takes and who gives orders.
Still, I am so happy to see you Momma, oh, and Brother Brainiac Andy and Sister Diva Calico Gen. Hey, pay attention… I’m up here, no, here, not there.. See me, feel me….Oh, good, contact made…Momma stop rubbing your eyes…it’s me…oh and Andy, Gen….I was The Muscle Beauregard for you, remember how I kept you safe from harms way then …still, look how you slink close to Momma and wind around her body in apparent fright. I am a Heavenly Cat now…new rules…Zero tolerance for me to taunt and terrorize (okay, okay, I admit, sometimes Wonder Boy had to toss me outside to cool off when I was rampaging around the house)… but that was then….this is now and I was always purr..fect around Momma…a true Gentleman Cat.
But I See All up here from this Vantage point… I know Diva Calico Gen…you have changed little. You still prance around like you are wearing your bejewelled high heels that match your diamond studded collar and earrings. And you are even more mischievous, bringing innocent little mice to Wonder Boy’s Bed…I know, I know…if Jakita can bring her pink Fluffy Bunny and Tigger to bed, why can’t you bring Mini Mouse. There’s rules Gen…follow them.
And you, Brainiac Andy…face it, you have slowed down. It seems the furthest you go these days is to hide in Momma’s peony bushes. The good news is that the trail of feral cats following you and Gen slowed to a trickle and stopped. Yes, you’ve mellowed. I could say even you have turned in to a Suck….every morning you jump in Momma’s lap for a cuddle…what’s that all about…that lap belongs to me, remember?
The other thing I have noticed from way up here on high, once I found my Blue ICloud to Heaven, you both abruptly quit helping Momma walk Jakita…not that she needs your help…you, Gen lying in the middle of the street for a belly rub…and you, Andy, taking off for the creek and not returning till long after the walk was done. I always suspected you were posers, trying to convince Momma, ‘Anything Beau can do, we can do better.’ You heard Momma bragging to the family, the neighbors telling her how cute it was that I went on every walk with you and Jakita and it was all about upmanship…Shame. Shame
Yet it now seems that Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte Charlie is my stiffest competition. I would never have expected that shy, paranoid Charlie could even compete for Momma’s affection…Yet there she is, bold as brass, trying to drink from Momma’s glass, wedging herself beside her in the easy chair, sharing her bed every night, waking her up every morning….don’t get too comfortable, Charlie because once you and Momma reach Heaven, the rules change…I am the King of the Jungle…you can be a Princess, okay?
There is loads more to share and I’ll be back with news from all the other Four Footed here in Heaven who seem to think they have some claim on Momma but, end of day, goes like this:
She belongs to me…I belong to her…in my dreams…
I love to flirt… I love to dance..
With you I’d love…To take a chance…
To Fall in love… To make commitments… But you’re insecure…You need reassurance…
That I won’t leave… That I’ll always stay… I can vouch for the present…But not for always….
I could easily lie…Say I made up my mind… But let’s look at my record…I’m just not the kind…
To make long-range plans… To always be true… So…let’s flirt and have fun…Tonight’s for me and you.
A long time ago…when the earth was green and there were more kinda’ animals than you’ve ever seen…Momma told me a story…part fact, part fiction and maybe, just maybe, part fibbing.
It seems when Momma and her Sister-Who-Taught-Her-Most-the-Things-She-Knows were playing in the forest one day, they met up with an old man, wearing an indescribable plaid shirt, flood pants held in place with ratty old suspenders, a bulging gunny sack slung over his back. He did not look left or right but trudged forward, a stoop in his back from the weight he was hoisting.
Now Momma and her Sister-Who-Taught-Her-Most-the-Things-She-Knows recognized everyone in Seven Counties so they raced home to ask their Mama (who we’ll refer to as Grandmama) whoever could it be. Grandmama explained it was The Hermit who lived way back on the Third Concession, who only came out once a year in the summer to get supplies like sugar, flower, tea and coffee…other than that The Hermit lived off the land, fished from the streams, hunted for meat…like wow…people actually still did that?
Just their luck, their Papa (who we’ll refer to as Grandpapa) walked in as Grandmama was telling Momma and her Sister-Who-Taught-Her-Most-the-Things-She-Knows the Truth, the Whole Truth and Nothing But the Truth….that is when the Secret was revealed…time those girls learned so they could pass it on to their kids and so on and so on… till death do us part.
Grandpapa explained, yes, you saw The Hermit….but…he is also The-Man-Behind-the-Moon. It is his job to take a pitchfork, a mega-long, long pitch fork and put the moon up in the sky every night and take it down every morning…and The-Man-Behind-the-Moon was eternal, not like Dracula drinking helpless victim’s blood, but being kept alive all these years by moon beams (not moonshine, moonbeams). No death and resurrection for The-Man-Behind-the-Moon…He was, He Is and Ever Will Be!
Momma and her Sister-Who-Taught-Her-Most-the-Things-She-Knows looked at each other, then Grandmama, then Grandpapa. By now you know, Country Folk are Believers…they Believe in God Almighty, Sweet Baby Jesus, Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, Wee Fairies and Gnomes in their garden… and in no particular order. Yeah, Country Folk Believe in everything….well, accept Donald Trump. Only Right Wing Republicans Believe in Trump… sometimes, most of the times.
Many a season has come and gone. Momma and her Sister-Who-Taught-Her-Most-the-Things-She-Knows have had children that had children and they still have not heard of the death of The Hermit, AKA (also known as) The-Man-Behind-the-Moon and in small towns, well, they have match box coffins and funerals for even the country mice…..give them a proper send off…which leads them to Believe (there’s that word again), Grandpapa was maybe on to something…
Not like Grandmama would give him up…she was no Conspiracy Theorist but she sure had the Best. Ever straight face of a World-Class Poker Player.
So what do you think? Any guesses???
It is good to be…well…me. Sure I have to share Momma and Wonder Boy with the cats (rolling my eyes) but bet your booty, I get dibs, wedged on the right side of the easy chair, demanding attention, should Bad Boy Andy decide to step on Momma’s lap to knead her ratty old black sweater, like it was his Birth Mama and him….together again….and nothing else matters….cuz they’re together again…where did I hear that before…oh, yeah same as a Conway Twitty song…
Then Diva Calico Gen, not to be left out of any love fest, hops on the right arm of the chair, sniff kisses Momma and starts with the love bites, not liked by me, not tolerated by Momma. Okay, this is not going to work. Momma only has two arms with hands… last I checked, she is not an octopus….and preferably both hands are massaging my body….because I’m Special, So Special… and may I add, The Baby of the Family…sorry, no consideration for Seniors….just stand in line and wait your turn. Game over, as Momma stands up abruptly, knocking Andy from his perch and scattering Gen at the same time. They troupe off in a huff and I got Momma to myself…Divine. I’ll make it up to them later, play tag with Gen…let her win…and sit through a grooming session by Andy because their my buds…I don’t want them mad at me…I just want Momma’s attention, first, last and always.
Then there is the Ever-Wise Charlie….so humble…she would never overstep her Momma boundaries. If Andy and Gen are outside, she will slink silently in to the living room, hop on to the couch, inching ever closer to me, settling down for a nap, trusting that I will protect her with a ferocious bark or growl, should any threat enter. Sometimes, if Momma is alone in the easy chair, Charlie will jump on the arm rest, paws tucked underneath her, Egyptian Style but only if 1) I am not sharing the chair with Momma because she would never try to steal attention away from me, the Ultimate Earth Dog and 2) The Bad Boy and Calico Gen are long ago and far away. Charlie and I are simpatico…we understand the world at large better than most living things.
So who else claims Momma’s attention? Well….you know, that Come-From-Away-Whenever-I-Want–Clem-Kadiddle-Hopper. He is not around that much and gives me no grief…still, it is another waste of Momma’s time as she clucks and fusses over him, giving him big bowls of food in his special cat dish, runs with buckets (okay, I exaggerate) bowls of water…that is like the thirstiest cat I have ever seen. Did no one tell him cats venerated in Ancient Egypt? Then there is the whole clear the track so he can hide under the claw tub. He is High Maintenance, very High Maintenance. Good job I like Clem or this would never do!
Somehow, I always manage to win attention from Momma when-I-want-it, for-as-long-as-I-want-it….so my all other Four Footed allies, just have to lump-it-or-like-it!. She feeds me, grooms me (endlessly – more eye rolling), walks me, talks to me (yeah, people look at her funny), plays with me, scratches me…oh, I have my Momma well-trained.
For all you Four Footed Creatures, there is always a way to last longer, shine brighter, grab the spotlight of life, capture the mind and soul so you win the most (Wo)Man hours….M.A.N.I.P.U.L.A.T.E. Hear the Brothers shout: ‘Amen, Amen, Amen, Amen, Amen!’
