Ye Olde Thevictorian Cathouse

Hey! Remember those cats in the picture from yesterday? Let the record show that Thevictorians are not cat hoarders. Nor cat herders.

Truth be told, Val herself was once an antiCATite! It must have stemmed from childhood, when she was not allowed a cat because her mother thought they were sneaky. And Li'l Val's in-town next-door-neighbor Li'l Sal had FOUR cats. All gray-striped tabbies, all female, each named after a Beatle. Ringo was Li'l Sal's favorite. Pauly was always in trouble. They lived mostly under her concrete back porch, but liked to sidle along the property line and make Li'l Val's dad's penned-up English Setter bark, putting her in hot water.

Flash forward 30 years, and Val was charmed by a half-grown stray calico who showed up and sat on top of Val's head. Not that she was invited. Val was petting the dogs on the porch when that mostly gray catten climbed from shoulder to skull and sat there like she belonged. Val was charmed. But only enjoyed the pleasure of Catten's company a couple of weeks, because Hick hosted a hayride for his work people, and the next day, Catten mysteriously disappeared. So strange, right after a teenage girl at the campfire had picked up our friendly Catten and asked, "Can I have this cat?" The nerve of today's youth! The answer was no. Yet Catten disappeared. That's Backroads robbery!

The next cat(s) to grace our doorstep were kittens from a fellow science teacher whose husband did not believe in having her cats have hysterectomies. "We don't have a male," he said. Not considering the one caterwauling from the woods. Their two female cats had litters within two weeks of each other. She was desperate to unload some kittens. We drove to her house, and let Genius and The Pony each choose one from the backyard playhouse where they had taken up residence.

We got along famously with these kittens. They were loved, and loving (except for my white calico favorite who belonged to The Pony, mad as a wet hen most of the time, but wont to curly up on my sweaty chest those summer mornings after I walked around the grounds at sunrise). The two cats were inseparable, and could often be found in the sunlight on the back porch, curled together head-to-tail like the yin and yang symbol.

That fellow science teacher had another two litters within a year. We agreed to ONE more kitten. She brought it to school in a pet carrier. Our already-established cats shunned it. Had nothing to do with it. Poor little gray thing. It had a cough. And a sneeze. Hick made a little box for it to sleep in, which Genius lined with an old hand towel. We put the box in the garage. Every morning Genius stopped to feed the cats, and pet the kitten by lifting open the lid of its box. One morning he was subdued. He climbed into the passenger seat and said, "Mom. The kitten didn't look up when I petted it. Would you check? I think something is wrong." Yep. The kitten had expired overnight. "It was still warm, Mom. But I knew it was dead." We tried. We didn't even have that kitten long enough to take it for shots. Hick buried it in the side yard, and Genius was sure to tell me, "Mom. The kitten is buried now. In case you want to go say a few words. Dad put the wheelbarrow on top so Grizzly doesn't dig him up."

THEN the three watchers from the garage showed up. I had stopped at EmBee and let Genius out to pick up the mail. He climbed back in and told me to stop on the gravel road.

"Why?"

"I heard some cats, Mom. Listen!"

Even though I heard no cats, Genius stood at the edge of the road and called softly until FOUR kittens and a bigger cat walked up from the edge of the creek. They were mostly the same size, though none looked related to the other. Genius observed them for a while. Then I made him get in.

"Mom. They are going to starve. Can we bring some of our cats' food down here for them?"

"Okay. We'll go get it now." So Genius dumped out some dry food beside the creek while The Pony watched wide-eyed. Genius was probably 10 years old at the time, and The Pony around 7.

"Mom. Can we have one? We already have two cats, I know. But one more won't matter."

"You'll have to ask your dad. That one that looks Siamese is kind of cute."

So after much anticipation, Hick arrived home, and his arm was twisted by the silver tongue of Genius, and he agreed to ONE cat. When we went back, the Siamese-looking kitten was gone. So was the older cat. We figured somebody else picked up the Siamese one, because it was the cutest. Genius settled on a little tan-striped kitten, similar to his Genius-the-cat, only not so orange.

When we got back home, Genius implored, "Now I have TWO cats. And The Pony only has ONE. That isn't quite fair. You always make sure we both have the same amount of stuff. Don't you think The Pony should get a kitten, too?"

Hick was pretty much tired of the cat issue. "ONLY ONE MORE! We don't need twenty cats."

So off we drove to the creek to pick up one more kitten. The Pony chose the black-and-white tuxedo cat. Back to our four-cat house we went. But Genius was somber.

"Mom. Now there is only one kitten left down by the creek. It will be crying and looking for its brothers and sisters. It will DIE, Mom. Because it's too little to hunt. And even if we take it food every morning, something might eat it. The kitten. Not the food. Can't we just bring the last one home with us, too?"

"You heard you dad. He said ONE more cat. You have to ask him. Not me."

Off Genius went to find Hick. Who came to the house and said, "Did he tell you what he wants now? We have too many cats!"

"Well, it probably WILL die if it's there by itself. They're pretty small."

"Whatever! Do what you want! Go get it!" Hick threw up his arms and stalked off. We drove down to get the last kitten.

So that's how Thevictorian family, not exactly cat lovers, ended up with seven cats. Five of which were more or less permanent. Five of which had their very special operations. Five of which had their recommended shots.

Free cats are really kind of expensive.