Cats-o-Mine Tales

The cat one grows up with always holds pride of place. But I can say, in this case, that Ay-boy was an extraordinary cat, in many dimensions.

He retrieved.

He ate Spaghetti.

He mourned my father's death...

He disdained, then made peace with our dog Mitzi, coming to rely on Mitzi's protection near the end of his life

He loved my father, but also adored my mother, and was jealous enough of my father that he would bite him if he made an amorous move toward my mother!

He had so much cat-onality that I came to presume that was normal for all cats. 

He was arrogant (but I am redundant here; he was, after all, a cat) but also pliable enough to be played with

He disdained the (unfixed) female who brought him a mouse (which I discovered in our garage)

He taught me the rule of cats, namely, in the words of my mother "The cat will tell you what is acceptable to the cat."

He once killed a Blue Jay. This led to one of my earliest encounters with birds. For weeks afterwards, whenever my mother would let Ay-boy out onto the porch (yes, he was an outdoor/indoor cat - it was 1964, what did we know?), Blue Jays would mass on the little sprig of a tree we'd planted in the front yard. My mother said that their cawing was really them saying "Cat! Cat! Cat!" I was impressed by the teamwork of the Jays, but worried for dear Ay-boy. It was a moment of complexity.