King Kitty

My parents have been carousing out east coast way for over a week now and expect to be gone for another two. While I'm thrilled they are kicking up their heels at various east coast hot spots (you know how those relatives can party!), I'll be just as thrilled when they return. For one, I miss them terribly. I speak with my mother every day and it's hard to not be able to pick up the phone and chat. I do have to admit that my parents have called often since they left 10 days ago, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it's not just to check and see how we or the children are doing. It's primarily to see how their very pampered pet cat is doing while visiting us.

We're familiar with pets around here. We have had a multitude over the years and currently house 1 fish, 2 gerbils, 2 cats, and a dog (you'll recall I discussed her here). We're terribly fond of our pets, most of the time anyway, but we're not what I would call pet obsessed. While I have to be honest and say that pet baby talk does often pass my lips, that's the extent of the pet pampering that goes on in this house. My parents and their cat however are another story.

You could tell when they brought him over that they had many things to say. Far more I might add than I did when I left my oldest daughter with them for the first time. First, he likes only one kind of litter. My parents didn't elaborate much here and frankly, I'm not willing to test this. He also likes his litter scooped right away (who can blame him?) and then smoothed out carefully. He likes his canned food damped slightly with a bit of water; just a drop or two. He also is very fond of running water and would appreciate it if we'd run some for him often. He loves hair elastics, paper balls and, despises most humans - when he deigns to notice them that is. My husband refused to believe this even after repeated cautions. One evening soon after Tigger was dropped off, my husband tried to cuddle and pet him. Tigger allowed this at first but kept up a continuous yowl and growl. I warned my husband that this meant he wasn't happy, but he blithely ignored me and insisted that even though he sounded vicious, he was obviously enjoying being petted. The next thing I heard out of my husband's mouth was - yeah, you guessed it - "OW!". While I acknowledge that it was unkind of me, I could barely breathe because I was laughing so hard at Tigger's show of "appreciation" and "enjoyment".

While Tigger is indeed large of girth, he's no match for our portly pooch, Layla. This however doesn't stop him from asserting his superiority and demanding acknowledgement of his illustriousness. This acknowledgement hasn't come easily to Tigger, but he is undaunted in his quest. When clear submission wasn't forthcoming, he waited until she was in her crate for the night, went up to the grilled door and lambasted her. The fact that she was sleeping was unimportant. He hissed. He growled. He batted at the door of the crate. This seemed to satisfy him, although to all who have witnessed this battle, Layla remains unimpressed and unlikely to call Tigger "Your Majesty" any time soon.

As Tom Petty said on his album "Wildflowers", it's apparently good to be king, even if only in your own mind.