Men and Their Cats - work in progress

You may know a man in your life who says he dislikes cats. This may be true according to his male friends. But on the inside, men truly love the carefree and non-nonchalant spirit of cats. They can be temperamental, but essentially they do whatever they please and require less attention than the alternative. Dogs may be more loyal, but cats are narcissistic to a fault. Several of the men in my life, near and far, have a thing for cats. They openly adore them, even if now and then they offer you cat tacos or to send them to you through the mail. The cats you see below are a few of these that have graced my life and that of several regal, adventurous, very special men.

#1 Spider - Spider is actually one of our neighbor's cats. Benny calls her is other daughter, as Spider is as close as family. In fact, Benny calls out the guard when Spider finds her way into an unwary neighbor's apartment. There have been many a day that we've left our door open only to find her curled on our bed, or in a dark corner behind one of our couches sleeping away the afternoon. She's finds it especially peaceful on a shelf underneath my clothes in the closet. She has been the bearer of many laughs, new friendships, and some words had between neighbors. We've been told she's not allowed to visit any more due to getting locked in one day. But thankfully we've overcome her father's anger and are now more vigilant. She is a quiet delight, until she follows you into the kitchen. I relish her midnight surprises, when Aaron quietly lets her into the house, and each time she rounds the corner of the couch announcing her presence on a sunny day.

#2 and 3 - The Pack - Dewitt's Fruit and Vegetable Stand on River Road, one of the landmarks on my commute to work. These felines are neighborhood cats, from what I found out from Mr. Dewitt. In fact, they ran the show even before the storm and they are not only renegades but hard core resourceful cats. Any given day I drive by I see not one but maybe two different ones from the day before. There are several of them, maybe 6 different ones I've noticed, straining to see as I drive past. It's become kind of a daily habit to look for the cats at the fruit stand, usually in some shade, in a box, or standing tall on the front step. The first one is Annie, Mr. Dewitt said. She rose to rub against my knee as I was taking a picture of her. Apparently she has given a good warning scratch to a few of his customers. She had the most amazing copper coloring from her shoulders to her hind end. The second kitty didn't bother to notice me as she curled quietly in her cardboard. The Dewitt family and fruit stand is among the few to be graced by this pack of semi-wild royals. But Mr. Dewitt has the pleasure of being surrounded by them each day he braves he the humidity to sell his home grown citrus and succulents.
#4 "The neighborhood dogs treed an adolescent orange cat in an olive tree. When Ben agreed to take the kitty, he named him "Oliver," after the Latin name for the tree. Ben and Oliver were, at first, wary of each other, but in no time at all, Oliver had claimed his throne, and Ben was his fool. Of course, it's hard to be dignified all the time, and Oliver, showing no shame at all, often reclined on his back." ~Ann
Oliver was my Uncle Ben's cat. He was one of those souls, like my sweet Delores, who is a transplant. When Ben decided he needed to spend his days in Hawaii, Oliver went to live with my Aunt Ann, like my sweet Delores. He began his life with a man and ended it with a woman, like so many other men-things. Oliver lived a peaceful life in their peaceful homes. He mostly kept to himself, but not in a scardy-cat way, like my sweet Delores. He would love on your shin or rest quietly under your calm strokes. When venturing out of Ann's house, he often found himself on the roof only to call out in alarm to alert Ann that she was needed. Photogenic like most cats, Ollie rests on this bench surrounded by feline accessories organized to create the most efficient napping space. Oliver left this earth last year, gently ushered by Ann and her tender care. We all miss his soft, quiet love and noble presence.

*pic to come soon #5 Missy is a hand-me-down. As most cat-people know, only females can be calicos, all calicos are girls. Missy lived in the home my dad now lives in. I remember walking through the flea market in Albuquerque one Saturday when my dad recieved a call that went something like this, "John, this is Roy. You like cat's don't you?"

"Well, yeah. Why?"
"Because Sarah can't take both of her cats to [Kentucky]. Would you like to keep one of them?"

"Sure. I'll take 'er."

And so, through the simplest of conversations had by men, my dad inherited a calico name Missy. Though he doesn't particularly like the name Missy, he hasn't bothered to change it. More often than not, she is "The Cat." What is so loveable about this girl is that she is a John-lover. She follows him everywhere. She sleeps with him. She calls to him. She plays with his laser as he points it along the wall, on the floor under the TV where she can't find it. For heaven's sake, when he watches TV she rests her head on his feet. Without fail, she always has to be touching him or walking with him. She makes the house her home, but Dad is her accessory, her best friend, her blankie. He gets aggravated with her long white hair, but never with her love.
More to come on this one! Stay tuned for more curious cats!