Monster in Paradise

Our normal routine, such as it is in a household with an writer-gadfly Daddy and law-student Mama, was again disrupted when Mama had another one of her orthopedic events. For kittens who are blissfully unaware of orthopedics, this is the branch of medicine where they fix humans who have bounced around too much, under the false impression that they were cats, and now have worn-out joints. The joints demand periodic operations and applications of cortisone. Mama’s back was meowing for cortisone, so Daddy took her to where they put it in you, and then it was back to the sofa for a day of forced loafing. Once in a while she would get up and walk around the house with the fluid grace of Frankenstein’s monster, but this did not excuse her from picking me up. There were some written instructions about not picking up anything heavy, but I explained that I, being largely made of fluff, weighed nothing.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Mama, who is now walking more like an extra from Night of the Living Dead, is taking off for the Memorial Day weekend to visit the six-toed monster. The six-toed monster now lives with a nice friend of Mama in my home town of Oakland. Yes, the monster is gone! Mama has to go visit him once in a while, but it’s a small price to pay for getting him out of my castle. I must say, I managed the affair very cleverly. Here’s the story.

As you may remember, the six-toed monster was a very violent person, who had to be kept separated from me and Sirenita. If he even sensed another cat on the other side of a door, he would throw himself at the door in a fury--hissing, spitting and growling. Thankfully, our doors are nice and strong, so they didn’t fall down. However, Sirenita and I went around with worried looks on our faces. The monster did not want to be friends. He wanted to depose the rightful ruler of the Kingdom of Milagrito and take over. I was uneasy all the time.

Mama and Daddy instituted maximum cat security. Our castle is laid out essentially in two rows of three rooms, so it’s possible to shut off the rooms at opposite ends of the house and leave an empty room in between. This is what we had to do to keep the monster from losing it every time I walked into a nearby room. Sirenita and I had to spend the day outside, so the monster could roam around the house and not be cooped up on the living room all day. At night, he retreated to the living room, where his food and catbox (eeewww!) were located and we got to come into the kitchen. Obviously, this could not continue--but it did, for a whole year. Daddy almost threw the monster out when he attacked me and bit Mama and the police came (to find out what happened, look for the sections titled "The Six-Toed Monster" and "The Police" in my first, super-long entry ) but Mama pleaded and he relented. I was rooting for Daddy to win that argument, and when he didn’t, I started to lay my plans.

I have a power of suggestion that rivals that of Rasputin. I must say in all modesty that I generally get my way in everything. For simple stuff, like demanding treats, continuous meowing usually works. But for really major issues, I use hypnosis. For example, Mama and Daddy had always intended for me to be an indoor-only cat, for all the valid reasons that people have indoor cats. I convinced Mama that I had to be an indoor/outdoor cat, and sent her to do battle with Daddy, who capitulated to our combined persuasion. The mechanism of my hypnotic power is the tail trick. I become unexpectedly quiet. I sit on the kitchen floor, back to Mama, and move my tail slowly side to side. Mama cannot tear her eyes away from the shifting tail. She falls into a trace, and I send my telepathic message. On the day the monster found a home, I hypnotized Mama into making a particular phone call, and the monster was out of my life.

There had been several previous unsuccessful efforts to place the monster in a home, but in my defense, I must say it is very hard to place a cat like the six-toed monster. Though he was learning civilized behavior, he was still nippy, and most of our friends had heard of the incident with the police and were rather frightened of the monster. Of course, the monster couldn’t go to a home with other cats, or the same thing would happen. The monster required a genuine cat person to take him, but that person had to be cat-free. Not such an easy person to find.

Once, Mama talked a friend of hers into visiting the monster with the idea of taking him home. The man was a very nice, easy-going man, a real cat person, and his elderly cat had recently died. He would have been a good Daddy to the monster. The man came to the house, and Mama took him to the kitchen to meet the monster. “Well, hello!” said the nice man, petting the monster’s head. The monster turned and bit him! Later, Mama held the monster in her arms and told him, “Fool! You blew your interview!” One lady refused to even consider taking him, although she was an old friend of the monster. She was not in the best of health and the monster bit her too when she visited. She said he was “too much of a handful”. Another lady offered to take him because he was making Daddy allergic, although she had already had a houseful of cats, including an aggression case. Mama thanked her, but turned her down. It was too much of a risk.

Once day, a nice lady came by to visit Mama. She was not a candidate for taking the monster, because she had a cat, and her roommate had three cats. Mama did not point out the monster’s beauty and amazing athletic skill. She did not show off his big, baby-black-leopard feet. She did not explain how much progress he had made in cuddliness. She just threw him over her shoulder while she and the lady sat and talked. As the lady was leaving, Mama stood talking to her by the door with the monster draped over her shoulder. The lady reached over to pet the monster’s head. She held his chin in her hand and they gazed into each other’s eyes.

“I like this cat. I would take him if I could,” said the lady.

“I know,” said Mama, pleased that somebody actually liked the monster, “but it’s impossible.” She was thinking of the four cats already residing with the lady.

That was in the spring. We struggled through the rest of the year, our routine of maximum cat security firmly in place. Cat movements were carefully orchestrated, and cats were accompanied from room to room by humans who shouted “Milagrito in the hallway! Sirenita in the kitchen! Six coming through!” to prevent unplanned encounters. Signs were taped to doors to indicate which cat was in which room. Daddy and Mama never saw each other, as each was assigned to spend time with one or the other cat faction, so that no one would be lonely.

Mama was having no luck finding a home for the six-toed monster. The problem was complicated, of course, by her affection for the monster, which made me jealous, although I knew Mama always loved me best. Still, she was unwilling to surrender him to a shelter or place an ad on Craig’s list, for fear of never knowing the monster’s fate. Mama and I also kept looking for a cure for the monster’s aggression, but he refused to be desensitized and couldn’t take meds. The super-max year ended and a new year began; allergy season loomed. You might not think it, but one more cat in the household, when that cat is not a trained allergen like me and Sirenita, seriously increased the impact of allergy season on Daddy. Daddy was wheezing all the time.

Then I heard some news. The nice lady who liked the six-toed monster had been away for months, working in another city. She had left her cat with her Mom, who fell in love with it and wanted to keep it. The roommate with the three cats moved out. The nice lady was cat-free! One day, when Mama was puttering by herself in the kitchen, I went in and did the tail trick. I waited until Mama turned curiously to see why I was so quiet, then I gazed into the distance at something that wasn’t there and swished my tail slowly from side to side. “Call the nice lady! Call the nice lady! Call the nice lady!” I sent the message directly to Mama’s brain.

Mama glided to the phone, bemused by the sudden need to call her friend, whom she hadn’t seen in months. The nice lady answered and after they had exchanged greetings, Mama said, “I’ll get right to the point--can you take the six-toed monster?”

You’d think this abrupt request, after months of absence, would be off-putting, but I believe my powers were especially strong that day. The lady answered, “Sure! Wow, I get the six-toed monster! I’m so happy!”

You don’t believe this? It happened just like that. I swear on my tail. After a year of fruitless pandering of the monster, I found him a home with someone who actually liked him and wanted to live with him. The lady and Mama worked out some details--Mama threw in lifetime cat-sitting as part of the deal--and then I sent Mama to pack up the monster’s belongings. The monster, who had moved into our house with not even a toy mouse or baggie of kibble, had a carload of stuff to move to his new home. He got our favorite cat tree, the Squeak-o-rama, so-called because of the sound it made, plus one of the smaller cat trees. He took his toys, his fabulous blanket, his hooded catbox, his placemats and his dishes. He took kitty litter, cleaners and deodorizers. He took plenty of catnip. I threw in some bags of kibble and cases of cat food so he would not get hungry and come back.

The monster is living in splendor. He has a house even bigger than mine and he gets to sleep with his person, usually under the blanket. He is an indoor/outdoor cat for the first time in his life, and he loves it. He has front and back gardens. He has a deck for sunning. His new human loves to play running-around games with him. And he gets visits several times a year from Mama, who moves in as cat-sitter when the lady goes out of town. Mama and the monster are still close, which mystifies me but makes Mama very happy.

It took me some time to reclaim my kingdom. I’m afraid Sirenita and I were a bit nervous when we first went into the living room that had been off-limits for a year, and we felt it necessary to mark that territory as ours. As refined as we are, it is painful to admit that we stooped to that kind of behavior. Mama and Daddy never scolded us, and with liberal applications of Feliway, we were able to break that habit. Now, I like to nap on top of the sofa like in the old days, and Mama made a pillow pile topped with a blue satin pillow for Sirenita by the fireplace. Of course, Sirenita gets to nap with Mama on the sofa again. I miss the little cat tree that used to be in there. The monster took it with him. That needs to be replaced, because I like to have cat furniture in all the rooms. But all in all, things are much better.

Except when Mama goes away, like this weekend. The lady is taking a trip, and Mama has to go stay with the six-toed monster. I can’t help feeling jealous. I don’t understand anyone needing to love another boy besides me and Daddy. I won’t be able to go on Catster, because Mama is taking her and my computer with her. On the good side, I will get Daddy all to myself. We will do guy things, like play string and watch baseball. Just me and Daddy. No monsters anywhere.

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