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SHEARON: Something has to give |
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Tuesday, 06 November 2007 |
 When I write a column, I try to write about things that I’m interested in or play a significant role in my life at any given point.
The problem is, lately I’ve written a couple of columns about my new 1987 pickup, while at the same time Ron Meyer has written about his new/old pickup. Don’t want the editorial page to be too testosterone driven.
The other thing that occupies a bit of my time and attention is cats. Yeah, Lynda Hollenbeck kind of has that market covered.
I’m afraid I’ll step over into her territory today. When I asked my wife for a column idea, she suggested I write about Chocolot.
Chocolot is a brown cat. My wife has a thing for brown cats. He was our third attempt at getting a solid brown cat. Of the two previous attempts, one was just not brown enough; the other turned black a few weeks after we got her.
We saw an ad in the Courier for a brown kitten at a cattery (can’t call it a cat house) in Perry County. My wife called and they said they had this cat that was solid brown, except for a faint tabby marking on one flank, which they assured us would disappear in time.
We went to see the little fellow. It was love at first sight — for Shelia. I’m still reserving judgment.
He was a playful kitten with bright golden eyes and cinnamon-colored fur with one faint swirl of lighter brown on his left flank.
This was the first cat I’ve ever paid for (and technically, Shelia paid for this one). And, three years later, we are still paying dearly.
The cat is smart. He watches us do things and tries to figure out how to do them himself. He likes to pick up things with his paws and carry things around in his mouth. He knows how to open our pocket doors.
Although he is forbidden from entering my home office, he figured out a way to get in. He waits in the shadows of the hallway outside my office then runs full tilt into the office as I try to slam the door quick enough to keep him out. Even though I can’t see him waiting for me, I always know he’s there.
Of course, he wants in the office so I’ll play with him, which makes it kind of easy to pick him up and toss him out. It doesn’t deter him. We do the same routine day after day.
For entertainment, he likes to hear the sound of glass breaking. It’s music to his ears, apparently. This started almost immediately. His personal best effort was to smash six flower pots in one day. He thinks this is big fun. I think it’s kind of obnoxious. He’s gone through dozens of vases and flowerpots.
If he doesn’t like the menu of the day, he’ll go to the closet where we keep the cat food and open up a sack of something else.
But the thing that sets Chocolot apart from most cats is this: He knows how to use the toilet.
I’ll have to say, my wife sort of taught him, and has encouraged this. She thinks it’s kind of neat.
It kind of creeps me out, to be honest.
Sometimes, when my frustration level gets a bit high with Chocolot, I remind Shelia that the cattery offered to take him back and refund our money if his tabby marking didn’t go away. It didn’t. I can’t seem to get her enthused about this prospect. I guess I need to invest in rubber flower pots.
Robert Shearon is news editor of the Courier.
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