The cat lady

My wife said that I should write something about "Cats".

On the popular animation television show the "Simpsons" there is a character called the "Cat Lady". "Cat Lady" is an old, body worn, overweight, gunnysack fabric wearing, blathering, 60's something coot that has cats crawling through her hair, purse and in her coat pockets. She is written as a crazy, hoarding, flea infested, indigent societal pariah. Whereas by contradiction in the "Batman" films and it's sequels "Cat Woman" is a svelte leather clad 20's something, agile long body female, battling crime and committing it, as a nemesis, vamp and femme fatale to the hero. All who watch "Cat Woman" see extended youth, carnal desire and exciting exploits that beckon the viewer to step to the dark side.

We have by default or duplicity of our daughter's poor choices increased in cat activity. At every turn of tragedy that happens to this daughter, we have inherited her inventory of felines.

Oh it all starts out in fun, the cute furry little bundles of claws amuse all in a state of euphoria with scampers and scurrying, jumping and tackling. Kitty-hood: it's pleasures and laughter fill my daughter's home until a household emergency places her family and cat out of a household.

Sure the human occupants are able to find lodgings, but for the now teen-aged long tailed night marauders there is no room in the inn. Oh but what to do? Call Mom, she will take them for a little while, just while they find another place or a place for another one.

It always works the same way. Tragedy comes. Knocks on the door. Once opened, points it's long spidery finger at the tender eyed kitty and says; You are going to die if you don't go to live with Tamra. (by the way Tamra is my wife) My daughter terrified for the cat, (and I should say here; an animal that has been domesticated for over 4000 years, and has been doing fine on it's own before, during and after any house habitation with or without human approval) cries the whole "imminent death to the kitty story" to the compassion aching ears of my wife, with the same outcome; we take on another pity story.

Within weeks the cat(s) have moved in, pawing their way to entrenchment. They climb aboard my wife at opportunities where she is elongated and positioning themselves in a fetal position on her nurturing portion of her female body, paw back and forth with a dreamy eye glaze while staring at her with their lids half closed and purrs vibrating from chest to chest. Deep down this seems very reminiscent of having an infant.

We have so many cats now that they are equal to populace of the female humans in my home. I have learned something. It is like a portent of coming calamity. Just as you could imagine seeing sky darkening dust in the horizon of the approaching 4 horsemen of the Apocalypse, so it is with all my daughters who no longer live with my wife and I. Each one of the three have bought a kitten. These are cute kittens, which of course makes matters worse, and they are getting closer to cat pubescence. This can only mean tragedy is reaching for the door knocker. It is as if I can feel Kitty breath on my collar. They are probably packing their little cat luggage as I write.

Yesterday, I told my wife that I was going to write something on my blog. Another story for you my gentle reader. "Eww" Tamra squealed "you should write about the cats!" And so here am I writing something about the cats:

I pose this question: Cat Woman or Cat Lady, what does my future hold?
I think I am going to buy my wife some tight leather pants for her birthday.