Monday, March 23, 2009

Please Don't Squeeze the Calico

Lucy was my first cat. She slept around my head at night smothering my nostrils with loose calico fur. Mom would come in and remove the furry ear muffs from my bed every night in fear of suffocation. It was my bed that Lucy gave birth to kittens under when dad thought that she was "leaking water" in the house. Yet for some reason, we always seemed to find some sort of torture for our lovable kitty.

My younger brother, Jeremy, used to tell me that if you squeezed Lucy hard enough, she would say "Matt!!". We continuously squeezed poor Lucy until she would scream out the name. Well, one time, Lucy got mad and rather tired of screaming "Matt" and decided to scratch and bite me in order to get me to stop. I screamed at the top of my lungs and mom came down to rescue me. Just like she would do to me and my brothers when we were in trouble, she held Lucy next to me and told her to tell me "sorry". Somehow, Lucy's unspoken "sorry" made me feel all the more better and we continued being friends.

Mom would later find Jeremy to be the culprit of another crime to the cat. Mom used to Vaseline Jeremy's nose because it would frequently get chapped from being a snotty little kid. Jeremy, decided that this vaseline could make a wonderful costume for the kitty. He smeared Lucy with vaseline from head to toe. Mom came into the room to find a cat that looked more like a rat, covered in a greasy substance. She instantly tried to put Lucy into the bath tub but Lucy decided that she would rather have to deal with her new costume then ever step foot into the bath tub. Mom ended up a scratched mess and Lucy won that battle. She would be named "the cat that looked like a rat" by our neighbors for months later.

There were many more incidents to shape Lucy's life within our house--including getting slammed in a door that resulted in a bented tail--but Lucy always came back to my bed at night and nestled around my head.

1 comment:

  1. So how did you deal with the Vaseline in your hair and on the bed? My sister had a cat that got left with me when she moved; it got hit by a car and I had to decide to have it put in a body cast rather than be put to sleep (not my cat - can't let her say I killed her cat!). I had to carry it to its food and litter box for several weeks. Then it became my cat.