I live with two male cats on a small ranch in East Texas. Leo, the boss cat, is an older orange tabby, who like many of your feline friends, has a will of his own. He runs the ranchhouse as if it belonged to him. If I misbehave — serve dinner late or forget to clean his litter box (though he has many acres in which to relieve himself outside, he prefers a home based latrine) — anyway, if I misbehave he will show his disappointment by laying in wait unseen, under the sofa table behind the hand carved antique merry-go-round horse. Waiting…and waiting…until I walk by. Then without warning he springs into action and wraps his front paws around my ankle and allows the motion of my swinging leg and centrifugal force to gracefully bring his body about, lending definition to the sinking of his teeth into my heel. I, of course, am screaming in pain and surprise, much to the delight of my fuzzy attacker, now hopping on one leg and shaking the other trying desperately to shake loose a 12 pound orange fuzz ball ON MY LEG!! (I’m being generous here, not wanting to offend an older and fatter cat who is now really more like what you would imagine a prisoner’s ball and chain anchored by a bear trap would feel like.) When he finally does let go, he disappears better than the Shadow from the old-time radio days. It’s not that he fears retribution really, he’s just made his point and is unwilling to wait around for me to make mine. Nuff said, that’s Boss cat’s way and temperament.
Mr. Black, or Blackie, is the interloper, according to Leo. Blackie has a sweet disposition, and you guessed it, is a solid black cat who showed up one cold winter night scratching at the door. I call him Mister out of respect for his courage in fending off frequent unprovoked attacks from you-know-who, who feels compelled to assert his dominance at the very top of the ranch pecking order. With Blackie around as a diversion, my leg is now almost completely healed, and I walk with only a slight limp that you might not notice at all.
These two Toms and I are great friends and we live in harmony together. Although we are all very different animals, we have found an interest, no a fascination and an appreciation in how different we are from each other. We each go our own way for the most part every day, but in the evenings we gather together, sharing how much we are alike in enjoying the warmth of a log burning in the ranchhouse fireplace. With Leo in my lap and Mr. Black curled up on the couch with the reflection of the fire dancing across his ebony fur, I sit and think about the world outside, and hope some day we can all appreciate and even admire our differences — and as the evenings come round, share what we like and love about each other, together. Have a great Martin Luther King Day.
