Kinsler: More importantly, she sleeps each night on Natalie’s feet

Meet Ms Gemma, age 13, an elaborately striped house cat with reddish fur and a tail tipped in white.  She is variously known as “herself,” or, “your red cat,” or, “the surplus cat,” or, “Move, cat,” or “The Legion of Decency.”

She received this last appellation when, while engaged in some Questionable Activity we looked up to see a small striped face glaring at us with extreme disapproval, upon which she took her leave, flouncing off with a muurrpp of clear disgust.  Thus was our behavior corrected, for we were laughing far too hard to continue.

Sunlight forms comfortable pools on our kitchen floor, and within each of these you’ll find a lounging housecat taking his or her ease.  Occasionally, however, the peace is suddenly supplanted by a burst of activity, as if the cats have taken leave of their senses.  While that’s quite possible, the usual explanation is that Natalie’s wristwatch has caught a sun beam and is reflecting ‘sparkles’ around the kitchen.  Gemma tries to climb the refrigerator, or the table leg, or any surface upon which the magical glow happens to shine. 

Extensive research has proven that even a tempting sparkle, from any source (laser, mirror, or flashlight) trained upon Natalie’s vulnerable leg is completely ignored.

Now, cats hate water, except when they don’t, and Ms Gemma illustrates the point most dramatically.  At 3:00am, when all is quiet, one of us arises to answer the call of Nature.  That’s when Gemma appears from nowhere to race the Arisen One to the bathroom. 

“Meow,” says she.  ”Meow, meow, and meow,” is added for emphasis as the woefully deprived creature commences the Water Dance next to the bathtub. 

The Proper Procedure is then:

• Retract both sides of the shower curtain at least one cat-width, for she enters the bathtub at the rear and exits at the front, not unlike a city bus..
• The bathtub faucet is opened to an angle of about approximately 5 degrees.  The water must flow in a smooth, thin stream so as not to sully Her Imperial Majesty’s perfect fur.  She gets wet anyway.
• When satiated, Her Imperial M. races out through the partially-opened bathroom door.
• Lastly, she visits the slumbering Natalie, who can discuss in some detail the benefits of maintaining a wet cat in one’s boudoir.

“Cats,” she says.

Mark Kinsler,kinsler33@gmail.com, lives with Gemma, Natalie, and some other cat* in our little old house in Lancaster. 

*G. Webster.