All things bright and beautiful—
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.
James Herriot used this hymn as the titles of his delightful books about his life as a veterinarian in Yorkshire.
As I wrote last week, Ms. Kitty absolutely detests Lily. The Christmas card that we sent to Tom and Vicki had a cat rubbing its cheek against a dog with the caption, “Peace on Earth!” I wrote “Bet me!” beneath it.
“You got that right,” says Pusscatkin who has her hindquarters on my knees, front paws on the pullout table under the desk and chin resting on the edge of the keyboard. When we first had her I had to shut her out of the office — much to her loud lamentations and clawing at the door — because she walked on the keyboard. She hates closed doors, and we warn guests to make sure that our bathroom doors are securely latched as it is disconcerting when she pushes the door open and strolls nonchalantly in.
Wonderdog Lily never barks, obeys commands and doesn’t make messes. She makes a loud noise by flapping her long, velvety ears when she needs to go out. At home, she’s allowed on the furniture.
While Vicki and Tom were out one day, I found Lily sprawled out on our sofa. “What are you doing?” I thundered. “Get off that couch!” Shocked by this rude awakening from a delicious snooze, she ran through the house and down the hall to our bedroom with me right behind her, shouting and loudly clapping my hands.
She ran to the far side of our bed where I found her trying to crawl under it, but all she could manage was her head. When Tom and Vicki returned I said, “I have given your dog claps.” “What?” “What do you mean?” “I said, I gave Lily claps spelled with an with an‘s’,” and I told the story. Lily has not been near that couch since!
Dogs and cats both like warmth. Lily often snoozes between Bill’s chair and a baseboard register. During cold weather Kitty likes to sleep on a towel that Bill put on the ceramic tile floor under a wall register. Thus, she’s toasted nicely on both sides from the register above and the heat radiating from the floor.
Face it. Cats are not as obedient or teachable as dogs. Ms. Kitty immediately became fond of a red velvet chair which shows cat hair. “I’m not going to let her take over that chair!” I exclaimed. We even tried putting coat hangers on it. Nothing worked. Having lost the battle, we clean it off when guests are coming.
I spent a weekend at an acquaintance’s home. She had three pampered Siamese cats. After the table was set, she didn’t seem to mind that a cat sat down on my plate. Eek! A cat’s butt on my plate! Surreptitiously I switched plates, turning over the one I was to eat from. One time our fastidious friend, Phyllis, and I went to a friend’s house for lunch. While everyone was chatting, we saw a cat up on the buffet, chomping away at the three-bean salad. I got up, and Whap! the cat made a rapid descent. We did not partake of the salad!
I draw the line at the table. Bill got a squirt bottle which I use to spray her with water when I catch her trying to nap on the table when the sun shines on it. She runs when I even touch the bottle.
Here’s a poem from a book about cats by Francesco Marciuliano that Jean and Bill gave me:
This is my chair
This is my couch
That is my bed
That is my chaise
Those are my footstools
Those are my rugs
Everywhere is my place to sleep
Perhaps you should just get a hotel room
Amen to that! wclarke@comcast.net