Cat on a leash, Cat on the loose

Along with having two dogs, Chris and I also have two crazy cats. I grew up with a three-legged cat named Tripod who was probably the coolest cat you’ll ever meet. She lived for what seemed like forever and passed peacefully last year. Somewhere along the line after college and getting married I decided I missed living with a cat and we ended up with 2 cats, Lexicon (our one souvenir from our life out west), and Dewey Decimal. They keep us on our toes and prove to be more work than two dogs, but we love them and they provide us with a constant barrage of good stories to share.

Dewey … being Dewey

It's hard to be a cat.

It’s hard to be a cat.

Here is one of my favorites …

There was this one time where I saw an Asian woman being pulled by a cat on a leash through my front window. Naturally, I went outside to see what was happening. Even through the obvious language … and other barriers (she was obviously a legitimate crazy cat lady), I was able to tell that her gigantic, leashed, monster of a cat was hell-bent on killing Dewey. Not that I was worried, Dewey has brought carcasses of his conquests into our house that were as big as a Cocker Spaniel. There was also that time that he brought a live bird into our bedroom in the middle of the night, but that deserves a post all its own.

What was strange was that this petite woman could not understand that Dewey was my cat. She kept apologizing for being pulled into my yard by “this cat” and gesturing to Dewey’s crazy-eyed self under my car.

“I am sorry,” she said again. “My cat won’t leave this cat alone.”

My mind was reeling at this point … thick accent …leashed animal … in my driveway? This really was suburbia at its finest. Dewey’s paws were flailing out from under my Subaru to try to attack this other cat who was obviously as … different … as its owner.

“Oh, it’s no problem! I’m sure he was causing problems to begin with,” I said, trying to laugh it off and end this increasingly bizarre situation. That’s where I think I lost her. She asked if I had seen this cat around before. Sometimes answers are just so obvious that I don’t know how to answer them. I’m sure this happens to everyone.

I tried to explain that Dewey lived with us and went into this spiel about how he won’t wear a collar and that we have a cat door and that he was up-to-date on his rabies shot. Somewhere my country girl accent must have gotten lost in meeting her Asian-American dialect and she responded,

“Oh! So you are going to keep him?”

Not to be insensitive towards our English Language Learners, but my patience was growing thin. Her restrained animal was in no way a threat to Dewey and I had an unfinished episode of Downton Abbey waiting for me inside.

“Well, yea, he’s my cat. We’ve had him for a long time.”

“Oh, oh, okay! That’s good!”

I nodded my head and turned around to go back inside to the world of Downton. My cat-walking neighbor turned her head and asked, “What about that gray cat? Do you know who it belongs to?”

I just yelled back in response, “That one is mine too! Don’t take her in! Don’t take her to the humane society!”

xo, Mary Kate

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