Cats

This page immortalizes the numerous cats we have kept over the years. I've never had a dog of my own; I didn't grow up with them like I did cats, so I strongly prefer cats. But dogs can be great pets, I know, and I have met dogs that I really liked. Dog people, particuarly those people who say they hate cats, let's put aside our differences for the time being. If you don't want to read about something you hate, kindly go away.

Please note that I refer to these cats as 'he' or 'she' although it is grammatically incorrect to do so. Cats are living beings with personalities, so to me, it seems awkward to refer to them the same way I would a toaster. Some people seem to refer to cats as 'she' regardless of their actual sex. Believe it or not, there is a fair amount of contrast between males and females, in size and demeanor.

Edgar

Born: 1980-03-17
Died: ca. 1997-11-21
Breed: Domestic shorthair
Quirks: Would eat corn right off the cob. Ate spaghetti on at least one occasion.

In the beginning, there was Edgar. Even before I was born, in what anthropologists refer to as the Prejakeian Era, Edgar was shredding the upholstery of our living room furniture. Edgar was born in Memphis; somehow my mom saw an ad in the Memphis paper for free kittens, and my parents drove there to pick one up. She has this big teary-eyed story about how they stopped at Dairy Queen on the way home and Edgar slept in the car while they dined inside. I don't know the significance of the name, although I think it was my dad who chose it.

Edgar was exclusively my mom's cat. She fed him and provided all the necessary attention. If anyone else attempted to touch him, he touched back with the tips of his claws. Generally he ran from visitors; he was not afraid of me or my dad, although he did draw blood if we came too close. Even my mom had an up-and-down relationship with him; when he decided that he had received enough attention, he alerted her with a swift bite. Despite his problem with anger management, he was a pretty good cat and held a dear place in my mom's heart. My dad used to joke that my mom loved the cat more than she did him.

In his later years Edgar came down with a nasty case of arthritis. He died in November of '97 of seemingly natural causes, and is interred under an oak tree in our backyard.

Walter

Born: ca. 1982
Died: ca. 1992
Breed: Domestic shorthair

Walter was my grandmother's cat. I mention him here because I often played with him when we were at her house. I remember Walter primarily because of one event that occurred when I was a toddler. My grandmother went out of town for a few days and we kept the cat while she was away. I had just gotten tall enough to open and close doors; Walter wanted to go outside and was waiting at the door. I opened it to release him and closed it too soon after he went through; I broke his tail about one-third of the way down. The vet had to amputate the end of it, so Walter was a funny-looking cat for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, I can't remember how or exactly when he died. Perhaps that will be an awkward conversation starter next time I see my grandmother.

Lucky Bob

Born: ca. 1987-08-27
Died: 2004-01
Breed: Domestic shorthair
Nicknames: Babalooey, Fortunate Robert, Reverse Whitey
Quirks: Wouldn't do his business outside when it was below freezing. (See below.)

When I was a little kid, my grandmother obtained two tiny black kittens from a house on Gum Springs Rd. outside of Paris. The male kitten she named Lucky, the female's name I can't remember. I know that the female was extremely shy and would not hang around people for long. Lucky, however, was rather amiable, and we quickly took a shine to each other. My grandmother decided to give the other kitten away, but Lucky liked me enough that she made him my fourth birthday present.

We brought him home and quickly noticed that he had a terrible gas problem. How so much flatulence came out of a colon so small remains a mystery to me. He was so small, in fact, that we didn't expect him to live long. However, he grew, and grew, and grew, and grew. When he was about four years old, our vet (somewhat new in town) deemed him to be the largest cat in the county. I think he got up to 16 lbs. at one point. Thank goodness that the constant farting was only a phase.

Not much longer after that, L.B. appeared at the back door late one night with blood all over his face and something stuck in his mouth. Upon closer inspection, it was found to be a fishhook which had pierced the roof of his mouth, and fishing line wrapped around his neck. Someone must have been fishing (and likely trespassing) in our neighborhood pond and left some of their fishing paraphernalia behind; Lucky Bob probably tried to eat it as it smelled of fish. We made an emergency call to the vet, and surgery was done to remove the hook and attempt to repair his face. Fortunately, it was successful. He later had problems with urination (according to the vet, his bladder swelled to the size of a grapefruit) but I don't think it was related to the fishhook. He was very sick and cheated death once again, through the healing properties of some gunk force-fed from a syringe. For the rest of his life we were only able to feed him the 'Special Care' cat food which apparently prevents kidney stones or something.

There is, as you probably have surmised, a story behind his name. We wanted to change his name from the original "Lucky," because so many cats have that name, most notably the family cat on Alf--quite popular in our household back then. My dad is a carpenter, and suggested Bob (after Bob Vila, then-host of PBS's This Old House) as a name. I also understand that he suggested naming him Bobbie (after my grandmother) but I think Vila won out. Or maybe they shortened 'Bobbie.' My mom feared that he may have already learned his name as 'Lucky,' and we didn't want to confuse him, so we compromised and named him Lucky Bob. Go figure.

I don't think it would've mattered, as we soon found out that Lucky Bob was the stupidest cat in the county, as opposed to the largest. Unlike most cats, who have enough communication skills to show you what they desire, Lucky Bob only butted his head on you and meowed. Repeatedly. When you finally realized that he wanted water, or to go outside, or whatever, and you finally got him to follow you to wherever his desire could be fulfilled, he just sat there and stared blankly for a few minutes. Sometimes you had to push him outside or hold the water to his nose before he picked up on the opportunity at hand. As I stated in the opening, we had to take him outside and force him to go to the bathroom when it was cold. This may not have been entirely out of stupidity, but also out of prissiness. By scratching the ground with his paw, then pushing his butt down over the place you scratched, he'd go. Better than having to empty a litter box, I guess.

He outgrew the health problems and continued to go well into the new millennium. As he got older he began to make lots of strange noises, including a guttural "mating call," when he wanted something. Eventually it got to the point where that was the only sound he ever made. We speculated that he probably had a series of strokes or seizures, as he exhibited brief periods of normality followed by quick drops into senility. He had to be put to sleep in January 2004.

The 'Reverse Whitey' nickname, mentioned above, originated after the arrival of Mark and Sergei, profiled down the page.

Sticker

Acquired: 1997
Disappeared: 1997

Sticker was obtained as a mouse-catcher for our farm property outside of town. Sticker was very small, but fully grown. His name originated from the fact that he was always rubbing up against our legs as if he was stuck. Sticker disappeared after about two months; he may have gone back to wherever he came from, or he may have been taken off by a coyote.

Sergei

Birthdate: ca. 1998-03
Breed: Very long hair. Part Angora, possibly?
Nicknames: Whitey, Mega Whitey, Ser-goo, Ser-guts, The Fatrix
Quirks: Absolutely loves cantaloupe. If you scratch his back, he starts licking himself. Could not properly meow until he was fully grown.

Two white cats showed up at our house in August 1998. We have a theory that they arrived with the 'carnies' who were in town for the Henry County Fair, held about the time of the cats' arrival. I remember the first time I saw one of them. We used to have a rabbit, who was in a cage on the ground just outside the back door. I heard my mom talking about a stray cat. I looked out my upstairs window to get a birds-eye view of a skinny white cat slinking towards the cage to get a whiff of the rabbit. This cat began hanging around our house, eating our garbage, and so on. Two days later, another identical cat showed up. We put food out for them, far from the house (trying not to make any connection to them). They didn't take the hint and soon adopted us as their caretakers. They stayed in our yard and made friends with Lucky Bob (they apparently weren't old enough to be territorial) and always were trying to get into the house. Eventually my mom got tired of taking food outside for them, so she let them into the kitchen to eat with Lucky Bob, but threw them back out after their meal. Long story short, they weaseled their way into permanent residence at our home.

They began gaining weight after we had them treated for parasites. Originally we named them Mark and Sammy (after the stars of the 1998 baseball season) but somehow "Sammy" morphed into Sergei. Turns out Mark was the brains of the duo, and Sergei was the brawn. Sergei is definitely the alpha male, going so far as to steal varmints that Mark has caught and eat them himself. He also has an abnormally strong compulsion to mark his territory on literally everything using the scent glands on his face. However, he seems to be confused as to the location of these glands, as he usually rubs his lips on it instead. The sticky consistency of his saliva has earned him the name Sergoo.

Due to his personality and relationship with Mark, Sergei has ballooned to about 18 pounds. If Sergei comes around and shows affection, you can be almost certain that he is hungry. If you cook something, particularly from a can, he will beg for it, and probably taste it. He is so fat that he cannot clean his rear quarters very well, and therefore often has "streamers" of excrement stuck to the fur on his rear. For that reason, none of us particularly want him to sit in our laps or on unprotected furniture. Note the abusive nicknames shown above. In 2002, the house across the street from us was struck by lightning and burned. Several hours after the fire was extinguished, Sergei came in and was grey all over. We surmised that he had been trespassing on the burned lot; I temporarily changed his nickname to Ser-grey.

Note also the quirks listed at the top. We knew that he liked cantaloupe from an earlier experience; forgetting what had happened, my mom purchased a whole melon at the grocery one evening and left it on the kitchen floor. Next morning we saw Sergei and noticed his face was stained orange. Soon afterward we found the cantaloupe with a large hole chewed in its rind and a substantial portion of its insides gone. Our theory is that during his homeless period, he received nourishment from discarded cantaloupes and developed a taste for them then.

Sergei never attempted to meow until he was fully grown. And even then, the first few times he tried he'd only make a squeaky sort of sound. Finally, after quite a while, he was able to properly meow, but to this day, he doesn't use his talent very much. Only if he's really glad to see you or if you step on his tail. I suppose his first few tries were unsuccessful for the same reason that it's hard to speak in your normal tone just after you wake up.

Mark

Born: ca. 1998-03
Breed: also long-haired (like Sergei)
Nicknames: Whitey, Skidmark, Marconi

Mark is described some in the description of Sergei above; there isn't much else to say about him except that he's pretty normal. He is a large-framed cat, and very intelligent. It seems that he has a very accurate biological clock, doing things at about the same time each day. My mom prides herself on having trained him to go outside when she jingles her car keys upon leaving for the day. He has a very puffy tail which, aside from the weight difference, visually distinguishes him from Sergei, whose tail is scraggly and appears rough. Mark likes to sleep in isolation, often in the ancient easy chair in our rarely used rec room.

Kato

Born, Acquired: 1999
Disappeared: 2000

Kato is one of three cats who were dropped off at our farm as kittens. My dad went out there one morning and there they were. Kato was the friendliest, as well as the alpha male. He bore a striking resemblance to Sergei in both form and fashion. Kato would climb up your leg like a tree until you acknowledged him. Kato was a great mouser and kept the place free of pests. We only had Kato about a year; after maturing fully, he left the farm to pursue other interests, such as sex. The name originated from Brian 'Kato' Kaelin... during the whole OJ trial some radio station around here played a parody of the Banana Boat song, which my dad still sings even today:

Kaaaaaaa-to, Kay-a-a-a-a-to
OJ's house is now Kato's home.

A few months after his disappearance, my dad was stopped at a rural intersection about two miles from the farm, and happened to see Kato in the bushes by the road. He got out and approached him, but the cat ran the other way.

John Henry

Born, acquired: 1999
Disappeared: 2000

John Henry was Kato's main squeeze; however, he wasn't quite as sociable. Sometimes while petting John Henry, he would spontaneously run off into nowhere, as if you were nothing. He left about the same time Kato did.

Sally

Born, acquired: 1999
Disappeared: 1999

Sally was a calico cat who was completely afraid of people and motorized equipment. We had little contact with her except to feed her, and even then she preferred to let us fill the dish and come back later to eat. She lasted only a month or two before vanishing.

Lawrence

Birthdate: ca. 2001-01
Breed: Siamese
Nicknames: St. Lawrence, Larry, Lar
Quirks: Upon entering the house, often walks the perimeter of the room. Is cross-eyed.

Lawrence probably was once the property of the Browns, who lived up the street from us. They moved away in the summer of '01 and not long afterwards, a Siamese cat that looked kind of like the one they owned began hanging around our end of the street; I suppose it's possible they left him behind. He was not neutered and appeared to hang around any home that would feed him. We put out food for him and gave him attention when we were outside. Our neighbor across the street, who lives alone, fed him and collaborated with my mom to purchase a flea collar for him as well as have him neutered. We were to share him as she was lonely and also enjoyed his visits. For a few weeks after the surgery he regularly traveled between our homes. Suddenly he became extremely affectionate to me and stopped going across the street; I guess our neighbor got ripped off.

As for the name, that came by accident. My mom said one evening that she was going outside to feed "that Siamese cat." Off the top of my head, as a joke, I said matter-of-factly, "His name is Lawrence." My mom didn't pick up and from then on it was Lawrence this, Lawrence that. I guess it worked; he occasionally responds to that name.

Lawrence eats a lot, but not quite as much as Sergei. His metabolism is apparently better, because he isn't squishy to the touch like Sergei is. He seems to be fairly intelligent. He knows how to open the door, although he can't actually do it; I once saw him grab the doorknob with both paws. Unfortunately, because of this, he has attained the bad habit of scratching on the door trim when he wants out. Also, Lawrence has a young-Lucky Bob-style habit of farting, particularly when he is happy. He enjoys sleeping on my bed when I'm at home. Because he is the best-looking of our cats, we have lots and lots of photos of him.

A couple of months ago my mom took Lawrence to the vet to get booster shots. In the process of examining him, the vet looked at his eyes, and noticed that Lawrence has an extra eyelid. Cats normally have three but the vet found a fourth one on Lawrence. He then decided to go weigh him; my mom feared he was going to be taken off as a specimen. The weigh-in revealed that Lawrence and Sergei were actually the same weight, 16 lbs. However, it's obvious that Lawrence's weight is muscle and Sergei's is cellulite.

Tigress

Acquired: 2002
Breed: Shorthair
Quirks: Took her a long time to learn to go to the bathroom outside.

Tigress is our newest farm cat. Perhaps she'll last a bit longer; she is the first indoor-outdoor cat we have had out there. Indoor enough, in fact, that when she went outside as a kitten, she immediately went to the litter box upon coming back in. It was not until much later that she learned that it's possible to defecate outdoors. She catches a few mice, but not as many as the other cats have. They haven't become a problem yet, so I guess she's doing her job.

Tigress was named by her original owner; my dad obtained her from the animal shelter. Did you actually think a cat of ours would have a normal name?

Phoebe

Born: 2002-04
Formally acquired by me: 2004-07
Breed: Black tabby
Nicknames: Phebes, Phe-bitch (when she's naughty)
Quirks: Plays fetch!

Phoebe was once not actually my cat, as she was acquired by W.T., one of my housemates in Starkville. W.T. was then working for AutoZone and took a position on the road that required him to live in hotels for two months at a time. Phoebe didn't like the others too much, so she started hanging around me a lot. And then W.T. quit AutoZone and moved back to Jackson, but gave Phoebe to me. So now I have a cat entirely of my own.

Phoebe grew up in a more traditional cat-keeping household, so she is litterbox trained, never goes outside, and learned to play with storebought toys. Her favorite types of toys are things that make noise, particularly those neon plastic jingle balls. She enjoys playing with them. A lot. At times, it seems like hours on end. She has even devised a feline version of the old fetch trick dogs try to impress you with. She signals you that she is wanting to play by speaking incessantly. Sometimes she will find the ball and bring it to you; you throw it and she runs like mad, and brings the ball back to you in her mouth, just as any dog would. Usually after a dozen throws or so, she's worked enough that she lays down and just stares at the ball. I guess being as she is completely confined to the house, she doesn't have much else to do. In the photos at right, I have documented her strange behavior.

I don't know much about where Phoebe came from but W.T. said she was born in Texas. I think he also said she was named by some girl he dated. You will notice that in the photos above, she is wearing a flea collar. I have since abandoned them for Frontline. Since I started letting Phoebe roam 'naked,' I have noticed she has odd wildcat-like tufts around her neck.

Phoebe also has a strange fascination with the toilet and shower. Running water in either of them always grabs her attention. I've never seen her drink from the toilet bowl, but I often see her leaning into it, apparently in an attempt to determine the purpose of the device. She likes to watch it flush. Also, she is interested in getting water from the tub faucet, and frequently tries to stick her paw in it. Maybe she thinks that's how you turn it on.

I have decided that Phoebe must somehow be part canine. This cat is the most dog-like of any I've ever seen. For one, she plays fetch. She also is unusual in that she gets truly lonely without someone giving her constant attention--most cats like people just fine, but wouldn't be overly depressed if their caretaker vaporized right before their eyes. Another odd characteristic is that she chews on things. Sure, cats might play with a string or cord hanging down from something, but Phoebe plays with it and then chews on it for a while. Very frustrating at times. And if all of these reasons don't convince you, check this out: Recently I was in my room, and Phoebe was sitting in the hallway. I heard thump-thump-thump (pause) thump-thump-thump (pause) thump-thump-thump... and I looked out into the hallway to see Phoebe chasing her tail. It has happened on several occasions since. A truly mind-boggling cat.

In recent times, particularly since I got her spayed, Phoebe has gained a lot of weight. She's got a big pot belly, which accentuates the fact that she has a tiny head. Most people who see her laugh. Because of the weight gain, or perhaps just the loss of hormones, or perhaps older age, she's pretty lazy now and it's hard to get her to fetch.

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