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This month, History cat turns 14.
Mar. 6th, 2011 10:59 amNothing makes me grin and giggle and shriek out nonsensical comments in a falsetto voice like my now 14 year old cat trotting and galloping and tweaking out like the spaz she is.
In May of 1997, my dad and brother were out of town one weekend. And my mom saw a "FREE KITTINS" ad at the munie or the old grocery store in Rogers. We headed out to a farm and she was the orneriest kitten there. Playful and crabby and feisty and full of hiss and spit. We had to have her. I held her on my lap for the whole drive home.
My dad's first comment when he saw her: "That cat's history!" After a questionably run name drawing in which my dad was the one drawing from the hat, History was named.
Sandy was 6 at the time and she did not like History. It might have been because Sandy had all of her favorite spots stolen by a kitten who knew a good thing when she saw it. Mom's lap - taken. Jill's bed at night - taken. There were six chairs at the dining table with cushions. Whichever one Sandy was on, History tried to sit on, too. Sandy didn't like catnip anymore because the already feisty History cat would just get feistier.
History's favorite spots to sleep, other than wherever Sandy was sleeping, were empty beer cases (especially funny when my dad's favorite beer at the time was Red Dog and there was a calico cat head sticking out of the hole), and a decorative basket on top of the topmost cupboards. You'd call her name and have to see if any pointy ears were sticking out of the basket.
She'd go outside and pounce on grasshoppers. They were her favorite. She eventually moved on to little birds and would leave presents by our door. Sandy preferred to give us gutted bunnies and mice.
When I left for college, my dad said I had to take History with me. This led to my adventures in my first apartment that led me to starting this LJ. It was an apartment that allowed cats.
At 14 she's still full of hiss and spit and feisty and ornery. She's starting to tolerate Kiko now. Well, as long as Kiko isn't sticking her face in History's face. She's still pretty skinny, although her hips are getting a little bonier. Sandy made it to 3 months away from 18. She seemed to be slowing down more than History is, though. I suppose a 60 pound canine nemesis keeps you on your toes. She still loves going outside and cooking in the sun. In the winter, she and Tim battle for the prime heat register locations. In the summer, she tries to sit with me on the hammock and follow me around the yard. Most nights, just after I go to bed, I hear a mad scramble and then feel the cat jump on the bed - she risks life and limb running past the dog just to sleep with me at night. :) No matter where she is in the house, as soon as we let the dog outside, there's suddenly a cat in the kitchen, licking her chops, waiting for treats.
Any newly emptied cardboard box in the basement becomes her new playground. When we bought a big screen tv this winter, she would lead me downstairs and scramble in it to play with me. We had to get rid of that box, so Tim grabbed the box from Guitar Hero and put a marble in it for her. There are now about 6 marbles, a string, and a small stuffed Big Bird in that box. :)
I love this cat so much. She makes me smile just sitting there. She's been with me from the age of 16 and has been there through all of my growing up. She was one of the reasons I knew Tim was a good one - she hated my previous boyfriend with a passion and doesn't particularly warm up to people very well. But the first time Tim came over to my apartment, he put his coat on the chair and she snuggled up in it. She lets him hold her and she doesn't struggle or claw (first. person. ever.). I've been so lucky to have her in my life.
I think I'll have to give her a few extra treats this month. :)
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In May of 1997, my dad and brother were out of town one weekend. And my mom saw a "FREE KITTINS" ad at the munie or the old grocery store in Rogers. We headed out to a farm and she was the orneriest kitten there. Playful and crabby and feisty and full of hiss and spit. We had to have her. I held her on my lap for the whole drive home.
My dad's first comment when he saw her: "That cat's history!" After a questionably run name drawing in which my dad was the one drawing from the hat, History was named.
Sandy was 6 at the time and she did not like History. It might have been because Sandy had all of her favorite spots stolen by a kitten who knew a good thing when she saw it. Mom's lap - taken. Jill's bed at night - taken. There were six chairs at the dining table with cushions. Whichever one Sandy was on, History tried to sit on, too. Sandy didn't like catnip anymore because the already feisty History cat would just get feistier.
History's favorite spots to sleep, other than wherever Sandy was sleeping, were empty beer cases (especially funny when my dad's favorite beer at the time was Red Dog and there was a calico cat head sticking out of the hole), and a decorative basket on top of the topmost cupboards. You'd call her name and have to see if any pointy ears were sticking out of the basket.
She'd go outside and pounce on grasshoppers. They were her favorite. She eventually moved on to little birds and would leave presents by our door. Sandy preferred to give us gutted bunnies and mice.
When I left for college, my dad said I had to take History with me. This led to my adventures in my first apartment that led me to starting this LJ. It was an apartment that allowed cats.
At 14 she's still full of hiss and spit and feisty and ornery. She's starting to tolerate Kiko now. Well, as long as Kiko isn't sticking her face in History's face. She's still pretty skinny, although her hips are getting a little bonier. Sandy made it to 3 months away from 18. She seemed to be slowing down more than History is, though. I suppose a 60 pound canine nemesis keeps you on your toes. She still loves going outside and cooking in the sun. In the winter, she and Tim battle for the prime heat register locations. In the summer, she tries to sit with me on the hammock and follow me around the yard. Most nights, just after I go to bed, I hear a mad scramble and then feel the cat jump on the bed - she risks life and limb running past the dog just to sleep with me at night. :) No matter where she is in the house, as soon as we let the dog outside, there's suddenly a cat in the kitchen, licking her chops, waiting for treats.
Any newly emptied cardboard box in the basement becomes her new playground. When we bought a big screen tv this winter, she would lead me downstairs and scramble in it to play with me. We had to get rid of that box, so Tim grabbed the box from Guitar Hero and put a marble in it for her. There are now about 6 marbles, a string, and a small stuffed Big Bird in that box. :)
I love this cat so much. She makes me smile just sitting there. She's been with me from the age of 16 and has been there through all of my growing up. She was one of the reasons I knew Tim was a good one - she hated my previous boyfriend with a passion and doesn't particularly warm up to people very well. But the first time Tim came over to my apartment, he put his coat on the chair and she snuggled up in it. She lets him hold her and she doesn't struggle or claw (first. person. ever.). I've been so lucky to have her in my life.
I think I'll have to give her a few extra treats this month. :)
