The Feline Wanderer

saddleback-blog-cat-post

 

By Valerie (Customer Service)

I’m not really a cat person.  I don’t dislike them or anything; they just have never been my go to fluffy friend.  Maybe it is because my grandparents always had barn cats.  Their kittens were soft and delightful looking.  However try picking one up and you’d soon discover they were little monsters with razor sharp claws and teeth to match.  I remember many an afternoon trying to play with kittens only to come home all red and scratched up like I’d been battling those not so friendly felines.

There is of course, an exception to most rules.  Smokey was his name-o, or maybe not, no way to know for sure.  That’s what we called him when he meandered into our house one day, and decided he wasn’t leaving.  For a while he was at my neighbor’s place, but must have decided our digs were more to his taste. We tried to take him back to find out he didn’t belong to them either.  Smokey decided he was moving in, and that was that.  A whopping 26lbs of cat cuddliness, he was easy to weigh, since you just had to pop him on the scale and let him snooze. Nothing fazed him.  He purred constantly, and slept enough to make Garfield jealous.

He would bring mice into the house as little gifts for us.  However, he was too lazy to finish the job, and would drop them still ready to scamper, on our feet.  Guess it would be fair to say he was a lover, not a fighter, or a sleeper, not a killer.  If we’d try and leave him for a few days he’d “stress eat” the whole bag of cat food we’d leave for the neighbor’s to feed him while we were away.  He’d do it in a day. We learned quite quickly with Smokey, leave the food with the neighbor, not the cat.

Smokey would allow for kid activities most other cats would have dived behind the couch for.  Dressing him up along with our dog was a favorite pastime that didn’t see to him upset. (Smokey didn’t care what the dog thought of him either and was big enough to get away with that.) We also used to prop a cake pan on him while he slept.  Then we’d take our remote control cars and use that cat as a ramp.  Perfect for getting our zoomy little cars to take flight without so much as making the cat twitch a muscle.  Of course, that doesn’t count the loud purring pouring out.

He stayed for around seven years.  Bringing in live mice, letting us use him as a pillow, and just being an all around fluffy blob. Not once did I see that cat angry.  It probably would have exhausted him far too much.  Then, just as he arrived, one day he left.  I like to think Smokey moved on to a different house with a cozier couch, laid claim to it, and stayed awhile, maybe one with lasagna.

  •  
  •  
  •  
  •