Well, it’s live! Conversations with my Cat Volume 1, which collects all the posts from this site, some previously unpublished conversations, a new foreward/history, a ton of Side Notes, and links to pics of the cats, is now available for purchase at Amazon for the Kindle. Coming in at over 12,000 words, CWMC is a funny look at life with a cat. From 3 am wake ups to play, to the effect a Christmas tree can have on your feline friend, to their odd obsession with getting into the closet, it’s all here.
To get you started and entice you to purchase the eBook, I thought I’d share with you an excerpt from the foreward, which is all about how I came to be (mostly) a cat person (I also love dogs, but, ya know).
Here you go:
EXCERPT: Conversations with my Cat
At the new house, there was a new cat. But he was not mine. Or so I thought.
My mom’s boyfriend moved in with us, and when I was fifteen or sixteen, had a triple bypass. His sister read somewhere that having a kitten helped on recovery, so she brought him one and promptly left. She never really spent any time with her brother. No one did. Not on purpose, anyway. But that’s another story. The cat became Meow Kitty, and he wanted nothing to do with my mom’s boyfriend.
I had a decent sized room all to myself, complete with a bookshelf wall that I intended to fill with books, and a black and white Curtis Mathis television set that lived on an old kitchen chair beside my bed. I would sit on the floor, back against the bed, watching tv in the dark. Also, I rarely cleaned my room. Let’s chalk that up to being a teenage boy, shall we?
One evening, I heard a rustling behind me. Looking under the bed, I saw a kitten stalking his way across some papers I’d judiciously filed on the floor by the door. Angry that this kitten, which I wanted nothing to do with, had dared to violate my personal space, I raced around the bed, picked him up and walked him out into the hallway, dropping him at the intersection before returning to my room.
This continued for a spell. I started tossing him a couple feet rather than walk. Not like throwing a baseball or a football or doing anything to hurt him, no, just a light little toss out into the hall. This did not discourage him as I would no sooner sit down than hear the rustling again.
Frustrated, I started giving him a smack on the tush prior to evicting him from my space.
Last resort – I closed my door. He scratched at it.
Fine. I give in. He had clearly chosen who he wanted to be around.
As time went by, I would come home from school and Meow Kitty would greet me at the door. Not like you might expect (with a purr and a rub against my legs), no, Meow Kitty would leap onto the back of the recliner near the door and present his butt. My job was to smack said butt. Not hard. Just give him a light tap on the butt. This became a series of light taps. While he purred. And kneaded his claws into the top of the chair. And smiled the way cats do when they’re happy.
Who’da thunk it? An S&M cat.
Moving into the fourth, much smaller house, Meow Kitty came along. He continued to want his butt smacked, and purred, loudly, when you did it. Other people would try it, but he really preferred I do it. I have no idea what to say about that.
The new house was in a bad area, so we got a couple of big dogs for the backyard. They were sweethearts, mostly. But they did not care for any animals coming into their domain be they cat, squirrel or other. Soon, one of the dogs had pups; we kept one. Also, mom started caring for other cats in the neighborhood. The house became a regular animal shelter. Meow Kitty was joined by several other cats including Blue, an old gray Tom who tolerated our existence on this planet only because we had food and gave ear skritches.
I graduated high school and started working more hours while trying my hand at community college. One day, I got a call from my mom, who was in a panic. Meow Kitty, she said, had gotten out of the house. Worse, she thought he had ventured into the backyard. She could hear screams of pain and was afraid to go see what might be happening. All sorts of horrible images flashed through my mind. With no way to leave work, I told her she would just have to go into the backyard and see what was what. She agreed and hung up.
Longest ten minutes ever. When she called me back, mom was laughing. She described to me the scene as she walked into the backyard; Black Labrador cowering in the far left corner of the yard, butt flat against the fence, German Shepard cowering in the far right corner of the yard, butt similarly pressed against the fence there. Shepard pup, yelping in pain, running in a tight circle on the middle of the yard, a ball of black and white fur securely attached to her back. Meow Kitty’s claws were dug-in the poor animals upper and lower torso/body, his teeth locked on the back of the dog’s neck.
In short, Meow Kitty was riding the pup like a Cowcat. Big pup. Who was freaking out.
Mom shouted at first, then got a broom and swatted at him. When that proved fruitless, she turned the hose on him. Flabbergasted, she stood there soaking cat and dog, neither of which seemed to take any notice of her or the water whatsoever. She turned the water off and scratched her head, trying to figure out what else she could do.
“Hey you! Let him go right now and get back in that house!” she shouted.
And Meow Kitty did just that. He released the dog, who ran to his mother and stayed there. Standing in the middle of the yard, mom said Meow Kitty shook the water off and, very slowly and deliberately, crossed the yard to the back porch where he paused, looked over his shoulder for a moment, and then went into the house.
We never worried about Meow Kitty getting out of the house again.
Conversations With My Cat is available on Kindle. If you can/want to buy it, that will help me (I’m unemployed at the moment). If not, I understand. Tell your friends – especially if they’ve ever had a cat in their life. I may release on other platforms later, but for now, it’s only on Kindle.