08 September 2005

Over My Dead Body


Finally, some attention is being paid by the news media to the plight of animals left behind in the exodus from New Orleans and other ravaged areas. All along there has been some footage of dogs left stranded on rooftops and such -- which bring me to my knees every time -- but never a follow-up to what happened to the poor beast.

Some would regard me as an idiot. Bleep 'em. To me, my cat is my child. Granted, as an intentionally childless woman I really don't appreciate actual human children as much as some of my fellow homo sapiens. But this is a personal choice and really should be respected as such.

If a catastrophe did strike this area (probably have to be an earthquake here in the southern Willamette Valley) and I was at home when it happened, there is no freaking way you'd be evacuating me and leaving Sir Bentley Winston III behind. This fellow is way more than just a cat.

We found him at the pound, while checking out the dog a relative was thinking about adopting. One of the shelter employees said hey, don't you want to look at the cats? and me, being a cat person said, OK. That's when we were introduced to Resident Number Such-and-Such, a black and white domestic shorthair. Declawed, neutered, 1-1/2 years old. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy. (Thanks John Lennon.) Donnie, the shelter attendant said hey, this cat is a bargain! Neutered! Declawed! (yeah, I know, but it was already done.) Don't you want to hold him? Yes. And the rest is history.

This "cat" generally comes running to greet us when we come home. His tail doesn't wag, but he flings himself to the floor and rolls over to reveal his plentious belly, which MUST be rubbed. He comes when he's called. When the weather is chilly he sleeps under the covers with us. He's recently developed the dog-like habit of begging for food in the kitchen.

And just a few minutes ago, while watching the news and then declaring to him (while rubbing his tummy) that I would NEVER never ever leave him behind he looked me in the eye and redoubled his purring efforts. He understood exactly what I was saying. Don't even try to convince me otherwise.

And by the way -- he had been scheduled for euthanization the previous morning, but Donnie (bless you wherever you now are) had begged for a stay of execution. If we hadn't come along that day, there's a good chance he'd be history. And that still tears at my heart...

6 comments:

Cindy St. Onge said...

This is a great story, Nancy!

I'd pull my cat from a burning house and let my brother fend for himself.

I also have a black cat with a white feet, paws and belly. She's my Montessori cat--has never heard the word "No!".

Sir Bentley sounds like a name Opal Whiteley may have picked.

KlevaBich said...

Well Duke, you're certainly entitled to your opinion. It's just interesting that you would deliberately list cats last AFTER CD collections on the blog of a person who is a cat lover. I sense that you are just trying to pick a fight, so will move on. However, I must first point out the proper spelling of the word "practical."

Cindy, as always, thanks for your support. Sheepishly I must confess I had never heard of Opal Whiteley, have Googled her and will now proceed to learn, so thanks for improving my education as well!

Cranky Bastard said...

Sir Bentley looks just like my Buster The Wonder Dog. I'd save his devoted, unquestioning, nonjudgmental and noncritical hide before I'd rescue my human kin. After all, I chose Buster. The relatives were assigned to me.

I'd make it hard on the rescue workers by hiding Duke under my CD collection. Then I'd go shopping for a parakeet.

Anonymous said...

For once you said something intelligent.

KlevaBich said...

Gee PBB, thanks so much! You know I live for your approval. Hah.

missbhavens said...

I love my cd collection, too, but I'm not going to grab it before my pet! One can always replace cds, but animals have a funny way of becoming family members...usually better than family members, actually, for all sorts of reasons. We are a team, my pup and I, and if I evacuate, she evacuates. If not, well then we'll just eat PB&J till the power comes back on.

(thanks for the kind words and the blog visit...Miss Maisie is at the vet getting some medicine as I type...I have my fingers crossed! My word verification below is "luckd", which I take to be a good sign)