Trudy Andrew | Canadian Author

Cat Tails

Our Crazy Life

There are times when, I really have to appreciate that I’m surrounded by a bit of crazy. Well, maybe not all crazy, yet definitely unusual. Last night was one of those, extra strange ones. We have two cats in the house. I suppose they can’t really be called true house cats, as Bagheera was a feral cat, and Pudgie lived outside for many, many years. Pudgie was our barn cat; she accompanied me while I did chores, and was a mighty hunter. She’s quite honestly, the cutest cat ever. She’s small, stout and has a half-length tail. Though mostly black, she would hide in my boot tracks in deep snow, in order to leap out at me like a ferocious tiger.
“Oh Pudgie,” I would chuckle, “you’re black. The snow is white. I can see you.”
She didn’t care. That little butt would wiggle as she “hid” deep in the snow, and planned her attack. Every animal has their person and hers is the hubby. She adored him from the moment he brought her home, from a place that couldn’t keep her because they had allergies. We never regretted bringing her into our lives. Pudgie is an amazing entertainment unit. She loves car and truck rides, as long as the vehicle doesn’t leave the yard. Comes when called, at least ninety percent of the time and understands many words. Never mind the words, she and I have a whole way of communicating in cat. She has specific little sounds, questioning ones that she uses when she wants something. Little ‘urrs’ and teeny meows that have different meanings, like an ‘urrr’ when she wants me to feed her. That ‘urrr’ often turns into a little meow of desperation, when she thinks she’s starving. For some strange reason, she doesn’t have a real meow. It’s more of a squeak than anything else.
As she ages, she’s finding it a bit more difficult to climb onto the bed. She needs the comforter to be hanging down, so she can get her claws into it. No comforter hanging down means, she struggles to get onto the bed. Being a creature of habit, she always wants to get up on my side of the bed. There will be a little ‘urrr’ or two to alert me to her presence. I’ll look over the side of the bed to see her cute, little self expectantly waiting for assistance. She’ll even stand a bit, like a child asking to be picked up. It’s funny that she comes to my side of the bed, as the hubby is her favourite. The second she’s on the bed, she goes to him.
Now, they have a funny, little thing they do. As long as he’s awake, she’ll sit near the foot of the bed, watching and waiting. The very second she thinks he’s asleep, she races to the head of the bed, usually walking on him to do so then drapes herself across the top of his head. In the winter, he doesn’t mind so much as he’s follically challenged but when the warmer seasons arrive, he prefers she doesn’t do so. He’ll tell her ‘no, go down’ and she usually does, only to quickly repeat the action as soon as he’s asleep. If there’s no room between his head and the headboard, she’ll try to sleep under the covers, her head on his pillow and as close to his face as possible. That little cat simply adores her person.
It’s funny how an animal will choose its person. Pudgie chose hubby and most of our other cats, have chosen sweetpea. Maybe they appreciate that she was the one who trapped them when feral and half-starved, or maybe it’s something else, but cats like Bagheera or the other now-tamed outdoor cats, gravitate to her. That darn cat will not leave her alone. She’s his pillow, his play toy and though I feed the cats, his absolute favourite. Like Pudgie, he comes when called and has his own, unique personality. There is one thing about him that I can claim as my own though, I’ve taught him to sit on command!
Yup, they have their favourites, but they still need me for a few things like food and assistance.

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About Trudy Andrew

Trudy Andrew lives on a small farm just east of Winnipeg, Manitoba, where she enjoys her Morgan horses. A dreamer since she was a child, its no surprise to those who know her well that her imagination would find an outlet in writing, as it has in the past through artwork.
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 Oakbank, MB