Like Cats That Pass In The Night

We’re enjoying another weekend camping at Pecan Grove. I didn’t have to do anything but grab a couple changes of clothes. Keith & Deana did everything else. I like camping, but I can’t imagine pulling that camper. And then once you get to the camp site you have to back in the camper. I suppose if I practiced with the little utility trailer for a couple of months, or maybe years, I would feel up to it, but as long as Keith’s my camping buddy I don’t have to worry about it.

So I got off work Thursday & drove down to Pecan Grove. When I got out of the van I heard a cat just singing the blues. Meow meow meow meow. Last time we went camping we brought one of our cats, Fat Boy. He’s a pretty skinny cat, but when he was a kitten he was the fluffiest little puff ball. He liked camping so I figured they brought him down again this time.

‘What’s wrong with Fat Boy?’ I wondered. Maybe he was hurt. The meows were coming from under the clubhouse, so I put my lunchbox down & went over to check on him.

I called but he wouldn’t come. I heard more & more meows but no Fat Boy. Finally I see what’s wrong with Fat Boy. It wasn’t Fat Boy at all. It was a totally new, never seen before cat. Big & white with large dark grey or black spots. Meowing it’s ass off.

He finally ran up to me like I was his best friend in the whole world, meowing & rubbing back & forth against my legs. ‘Oh, thank God you’re here,’ he was saying in kitty talk. ‘I have been waiting for you my whole life.’

He was a very thankful cat.

What to do, what to do.

Keith & Deana were inside the camper sleeping. The odds of Keith being happy if he woke up with a strange cat running wild in the camper are pretty slim. Plus, when I opened the door to the camper I saw Fat Boy standing there wondering what other kitty I was cheating on him with. Keith would definitely be mad if he woke up with both cats screaming & pulling out each other’s hair all through the camper.

He wouldn’t be a happy camper, that’s for sure.

I ended up booting Fat Boy out for the rest of the night. By that time it was close to 3am, so basically it was early morning. I figured either they’d make friends, or one of them would be King of Pecan Grove & the other would be hiding out in the woods licking it’s wounds. If Fat Boy lost the kitty smackdown he wouldn’t go very far & if he won & Mr. Mystery Kitty never showed his furry face again that wouldn’t be a huge loss. I mean, I would miss him, sure. He’s a cool cat & obviously used to a certain level of human adoration, but it’s not like I had anything invested in his health & wellbeing.

When I got up Keith & Deana were already up. I asked them what was up with our new cat.

New cat? What new cat?

They never even saw him. Not Thursday night & not Friday morning. He was gone but Fat Boy was right outside waiting to get back in the camper. I told them I named him Sparkle because he was so clean he sparkled. Obviously, somebody came out & dumped him in the last couple of days. I hate it when people do that. A couple of years ago somebody dumped not one or two cats but a whole herd of cats. 15 cats of all ages, from big old mean kitties to little kittens still sucking on Momma’s titties.

Fucking city people.

They think it’s okay to take a house pet & just dump it off on the side of the road out in the country somewhere. I don’t know if they think country people can’t figure out how to get pets of their own, and we’re glad when they share their pet bonanza with us, or if they actually think their pets can survive in the wild with no help from human servants. I don’t care how many birds or mice your dog or cat brings you, unless they’re half feral to start with you’re dooming your pet. If they’re lucky they’ll die a quick death when a fox or coyote, or even a large hawk or owl, swoops in & kills it, or they’ll slowly starve to death over a period of weeks or maybe even months.

Like I said, fucking city people.

I don’t know what happened to the big herd of cats. We tried to get a shelter or SPCA or somebody to take them, but everybody was full of cats. No room at the inn. We were going to keep a couple of them & try to find homes for the rest of them. I had one of the momma kitties picked out that I really liked, a skinny, smoky chocolate brown with a puffy tail, that I named Cocoa & Deana liked one she named Snickers. But then one day a couple of them were gone. Then a couple more. Then we woke up one day & all of them were gone except for two of the kittens. No more Cocoa. No more Snickers. I halfway expected to find Pecan Grove full of half-eaten cat carcasses, but they had disappeared without a trace. Maybe something scared them & they all ran away. Maybe aliens beamed them up to the mothership.

If you were expecting this to be the end of the story you’re wrong.

When I got off work Friday I saw Fat Boy walking around outside the camper. I opened the door & before I could even ask if they ever found my new friend I saw him sitting in Deana’s lap in the camper. Just like he owned the place. He’s a big sweetie. Loves the dogs.

Not too sure about Fat Boy, which is surprising because my cat sex identification dyslexia is still going strong. The new cat didn’t have any balls, so I didn’t know if it was a boy that was fixed or a girl. Now, I’m not crazy. If I had a choice between a fixed male cat or a female who may or may not be fixed, I’d choose the fixed male cat, so that’s what I assumed/hoped he/she was.

Sigh.

I was wrong. Keith is convinced he heard her over by the levee yowling like she’s in heat. So either she’s already pregnant, ready to get pregnant, or a little of both, which explains why Fat Boy hasn’t run her off yet but not why she’s playing so hard to get with him.

Keith is convinced we’re not going to bring her back home with us.

When will he ever learn?