Bonzo has another feline friend in Miss Kitty

Kitty [Photo: Kaila Jones]

As a Dog, I’ve always thought about Cats as stealthy, mysterious creatures with Special Powers, an eyes that Look Right Though You. I think cats know stuff nobody else knows. An then there’s that Nine Lives thing. I’ve made several good cat frens in recent years, but that’s always in the back of my mind.

This week I innerviewed Kitty Dotson, the purrfect example of all that: sleek black, nose to tail tip; slender and graceful; long legs an tail; green eyes; fearless an independent. As me an my assistant were walkin’ up to the house, Miss Kitty appeared from under the truck, and pawsed to check us out.

“Good afternoon,” I said. “May I assume you are Kitty Dotson? I believe we have an appointment. I’m Bonzo the Columnist.”

“So you say.” Her voice was soft an low. “Do you have ID?”

I produced my card. She looked it over.

“Humm. Well. All right then. I believe you are, in fact, Bonzo. We can talk right over here.”

She ran to the open garage and jumped lithely onto a table containing a box with her food and water bowls.

“I will eat while we talk. It IS my dinner time, you know.”

“Of course.”

Just then a man came out the front door.

“This is my Daddy, Monty,” Kitty jumped down an ran to him. “He’s my Best Friend.”

Her Dad picked her up an she purred an snuggled against him, then headed back to her dinner.

“So, go ahead an ask your questions.” She began nibbling her kibbles daintily, her long black tail swishing slowly from side to side.

“How did you an your dad meet?”

“I remember very little before he found me. I was a tiny kitten, still in need of mommy milk. But then something happened and I was all alone. No mommy. No fellow kittens. I remember curling up into a tiny ball.”

“Oh, Miss Kitty, that’s terrible!”

“Indeed. Anyway, Daddy often works in his gurr-ADGE, an this one day, he heard tiny squeaky noises coming from there. He looked low an high; the liddle noises got louder as he approached his tool box. He peeked in. An there I was, curled up, meowing as loud as I could, which wasn’t very loud. Daddy picked me up. I fit right in his hand, with room to spare.

“Daddy could see I should really still be with my Mommy, but there were no other cats anywhere nearby. So he bought some human baby formula. And got me all snuggly in his house. He took very good care of me!”

“Woof! It is SO pawsome that he figured out what to do!”

“I KNOW! Right away, he took me to a vet to be sure I was OK an to get some Kitten Raising Advice. When I was old enough, I got the No Kittens Procedure, an went on grown-up cat food (my favorite’s Poo-Reena fish kibbles). I was always happy, an smart, an mostly obedient (unless my way was better.) Pretty soon, we discovered I love to be outside, just like Daddy.

“As a kitten, I really enjoyed chewing stuff: mostly Daddy’s belts, shoes an sox. But that was just kitten buh-havior. Now I prefer ‘Makin’ Biscuits’ on the tires of Daddy’s cars.”

“Um … what’s ‘Makin’ Biscuits’?”

“Oh, YOU know, it’s that thing us cats do with our front paws kinda Grip/Release over an over. Humans named it. I guess it reminds ’em of something.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen you guys do that! Makin’ Biscuits, huh? So, where do you sleep?”

“Sometimes with Daddy, but usually out here, on top of Daddy’s Crossfire convertible.”

There was a shiny black car in the garage with a black top, the kinda car humans call HOT!

“Woof! I bet you’re totally invisible up there! But isn’t your Dad scared you’ll, like, scratch it?”

“I do blend in. Stealthy, you know.” She smiled a Very Catlike Smile. Then continued, still smiling, “Well, yes, the first time I jumped on it, I started Making Biscuits, an Daddy quietly an calmly informed me that that was NOT a good idea. At All. Ever. So I never did it again. We communicate very well with each other.”

“I can tell,” I said, impressed. “So, any cat or pooch pals?”

“Ever since Daddy rescued me, my pals were his part shepherd/part wolf dogs, Dante an Payton. Back then I was about the size of a tennis ball, but we got along great. I wasn’t scared of ’em, one bit! I was Fearless, an they were Very Gentle. After we moved here, they went to Dog Heaven. I miss ’em a lot still.”

Kitty pawsed. Her green eyes had a faraway gaze.

“But I’m a Strong, Independent Feline. I don’t really need lotsa pals. Currently, my best fren’s a Tom Cat who lives in the woods next door. We get along great, like brother an sister. We’re both Free Spirits!

“A liddle while back, I hadda chase raccoons out of the garage. Those dingbats were eating my food. An then there’s the air conditioner guy. I’m not so sure about him. I visualize myself 6 feet tall, an I Stare Him Down.”

Picksurin’ that, I smiled. “Whaddya do for fun?”

“We go huntin.’ I love ridin’ in the truck. Daddy’s ALWAYS workin’ on it. When he’s under it, I’m right there on top of him, helpin.’ I’m a hunter, too. It’s an IN-stink. I often bring Daddy liddle gifts. An I REALLY like cuddlin.’ But only for a few minutes. An only with Daddy. When he’s away, I hang out in the house. I don’t even know how many lives I already had. All I know is This one is the BEST!”

Heading home I was thinking how in-TREE-ging cats are. Them an us (dogs) are different in lotsa ways. But (I’m ree-lizing) pretty much alike in others. So, when we make the effort, we get along just fine. Sorta like humans.

Till next time,

The Bonz

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