Please…when you are carving my epitaph on cold black marble slab, let it read…
‘He tried so hard to show them all that he wasn’t always mean…..
Yet they all thought each thing he did was just some evil scheme….’ (Paraphrase Hank Williams)
Because….really, I always mean well…
Every cat is born a helpless little kitty, dependent on Mama Cat to sustain life and order …which gets tricky…when you are born a feral….with no cushy baskets to sleep in… no water dishes or dry or wet food, set up in separate stations to prevent the Dominant from taking and taking and taking from the Submissive…..
I knew, I just knew, I had to survive because I had a purpose in life…I would be someone, somewhere, even if I was clueless about backing down when the stakes were high….but hey, I am The Brainiac, not some Risk Management Director, placing my bets, considering the odds.
It wasn’t long (like I was 3.5 weeks old) when ‘Destiny is All’ kicked in and our Momma swooped myself, (Bad Boy Andy), Sister Diva Calico Gen and Brother Muscle Cat Beauregard from a life of utter noisy chaos and destruction at a Tier One Auto Manufacturing Plant and took us to an Urban Suburban Life…well Paradise, …actually. One little catch….there were three Senior Cats, all female (also feral), who lived there, rescues as well and like Shania Twain…. ‘That don’t impress me much.’
Job #1….eat, eat, eat…outsize, outrank the Senior Cats….show them Tom Cats (The Muscle Cat Beau and me, Bad Boy Andy) rule, and outrank so…move over…. there is some New Sheriffs in town….oh, and Diva Calico Gen, being our sibling ranked before the Seniors because…blood’s thicker than water, so, well, we had her back. All of this jockeying for position caused a lot of snarling and chasing, ripping around but we were not going anywhere…but then, neither were the Senior Cats…..
I was much sneakier (I am the Brainiac) then Beau, so would avoid confrontations indoors (Momma and Wonder Boy are so judgemental – no sense of one up man ship at all)…but not Beau, who would find himself ejected in to the cold snowy nights to cool down.
As years pile on, only Sweet Diva Calico Gen and myself are left….and one Senior Cat, Hush, Hush Sweet Charlotte and like two old rams, we still lock horns…she has me permanently barred from Momma’s bedroom…something to do with my bad behaviour…no doubt….
Still the living room is fair game…I see Momma in that ratty old sweater, I hop up for a suckle and a kneading session….and I spend countless hours grooming the Ultimate Earth Dog Jakita. Even if she is so strict about discipline, still she is as patient as a saint….but I have seen her rolling her eyes when I groom on and on….
So I am hoping, paw toes crossed that when I take my blue ICloud to Heaven, some of my more savory, caring moments will be put on the scale and that they will outweigh the torment I dished out because…honestly, I was only being a Tom Cat
Come to think of it…I am a Catholic. I’ll go to confession…Say my Hail Mary’s…Get my Last Rites…I’m in…Well, maybe Cat-O-Lic Purgatory for a while….Just glad I’m not one of those WASP (White Ango-Saxon Protestants),,,,like Momma….no hope for them!
It would seem (according to Momma, who has been accused of stretching the truth just to enliven the story), that every country village had a Mad As A Hatter Harriet Damsel…going forward we will just call her MAAHHD.
So if you’re cursed with being a city slicker and was just passing through our town, you probably really want to know how to recognize MAAHHD. It was not like she was radio-active, killing off your healthy cells as she fixed her steely gaze upon you. You couldn’t call her obnoxious, not even passive aggressive. No, she was just, how to put it…other worldly.
You see MAAHHD wore hats, every color, every size, homemade hats no doubt, made at the kitchen table, by the light of the kerosene oil lamp , while she was clearly under the influence of wobbly juice or dandelion wine, depending on the season.
When you saw her on the street in her pink and blue hat, you knew she was on the way to welcome the most recent born member of the community. Then she had the Easter Bonnet, all flowers and bird nests, the Christmas Jingle bell Tuque-Hat affair to keep her ears warm….and many more…
Like the Kentucky Derby Hat, the Queen Victoria Birthday Hat, the Canada Day Flag Hat…but there was one hat, her favourite…. worn the most often….the Bereavement Hat.
I don’t know if you ever have seen a Bereavement Hat (least not one put together by MAAHHD). It was dark black felt, a little netting to cover her left eye (or was it the right?) with one long various shades of grey ‘I surrender’ seagull feather.… oh, and just to add some joy, a satin white and red rosette with matching ribbon.
Behind MAAHHD‘s back (and even to her face….sometimes…) we said it reminded us of a skunk…no wait, life …with dark forces being slayed by a simple splash of color…but no worries…if it worked for MAAHHD, it worked for us.
When we saw MAAHHD going down the sidewalk, wearing the Bereavement Hat, heading to the Funeral Parlour, we scratch our heads and ask, ‘Who died?’, because MAAHHD paid her respects, regardless if she knew the person, the family or even a friend of the deceased. MAAHHD had the ample opportunity to sit piously through visitation of all the dead, English and French since we lived in a Franglais (French–English) town. Still, our French friends would come out, shaking their heads, ‘Sacre Cœur, qui est-ce?’ …roughly translated, ‘Who the heck is that?’ they’d ask? ‘Welcome to MAAHHD’s World, MAAHHD’s World,’ we’d say…..long before that other Mad Canadian coined the Wayne’s World, Wayne’s World jingle.
MAAHHD always took a seat in the same chair, respectfully far from the actual mourners. It got to a point that her presence was so accepted, if some outsider, sat on her chair, one of the town folk would shoe the errant individual away … because small towns have those rules and regulations, written in indelible ink, passed down through the generations and they have no problem passing them on to the ignorant Come–From–Aways.
Now that begs the question…so who all attended MAAHHD’s visitations? No surprise….everyone for miles around turned out, French and English alike, to show her the respect that she had shown their loved ones. The line of mourners, exchanging MAAHHD stories in French and English, stretched from the main boulevard, down a couple of side streets, to the funeral home door, down the hall, into the viewing room, up to the shiny, varnished casket where MAAHHD Rested-In-Peace..
To further show honor and recognition for her past commitment, her empty chair was moved up, right beside the coffin…with her Bereavement Hat in the middle of the seat, just in case MAAHHD decided to climb out and sit piously, with her hat on, one last time.
Rumor has it MAAHHD has a distant cousin (or is it a great-niece) moving to town to continue the family tradition… so fingers crossed. It is said all the Cousin (or Great Niece) inherited was hats…Mad As A Hatter Harriet Damsel Hats… a lot of them… so don’t be spooked if you one day see MAAHHD’s hats, back in action…it is not a ghost…it is just an inheritance…..
She wore a…Raspberry beret…The kind you find in a second-hand store..(Thank you Prince. Rest In Peace)
