Even though it’s been a while since my first cat innerview, I still get a liddle nervous. There’s just something mysterious about ’em, like they know stuff us dogs don’t know – which, I suspect, they probly DO.
A feline acquaintance of mine hadda go to therapy for years after being chased up a tree by a bad-mannered dog so, when me an my assistant knocked on Beauregard an Clementine Schenkel’s door, I put on my best bee-NINE Professional Journalist face, fluffed my ruff, an fervently hoped they hadn’t had any previous traumatic canine experiences.
Beauregard answered the door standing right beside a lady. He was a large, impressive fellow with short thick gray fur, white sox an beard. Very elegant. An not one bit timid. As the traditional Wag-an-Sniff is a purely canine ritual, I stood still an introduced myself an my assistant.
After one brief but meaningful hissss – to advise me that he was Boss of the House – Beauregard, cool as a bowl of ice water, executed an elegant Swish-Tail, Single Pass Ankle Rub for my assistant and said, “So, Bonzo, it’s great meeting you in The Fur. I’m Beauregard Schenkel an this is our Human, Mary. Ackshully, I’m quite familiar with your work. It’s refreshing to see you’ve been reaching out to the Feline Demographic.”
“Absolutely,” I replied. “It is the Post-Species Era after all. We’ve still got a lot to learn about each other, I feel.” Looking around. I added, “I understood there were to be two of you.”
“That’s correct. My sister Clementine’s a liddle shy. She’s probly under the bed.” He raised his voice. “HEY, CLEMMIE! Bonzo’s here. He’s Cool Catnip. No worries! Come on out!” Then, to me, “Let’s go sit down. She’ll show up shortly.”
As he walked toward the couch, I noticed he had a black polka dot on the bottom of his white sox. Way Cool Catnip.
As my assistant rooted around in The Satchel for the plastic Hairball Greenie bag, Beauregard came right over an began nosing around in it as well. “I love crinkly plastic,” he said.
I opened my notebook as Beauregard polished off his Greenie. “Tell me about yourself.”
He stretched out on the carpet an began. “Our Human already had Clemmie when I came along. We’re both rescues. She’s about 14 now an I’m probly 10, but I’ve always felt older than she. Anyway, Mary was looking for a companion for Clemmie, who was 8 at the time. A nice Shelter human, Paula, suggested me. At that point, I’d been there for, like 6 months in human.”
“Woof!” I exclaimed.
“Woof, indeed,” Beauregard agreed. “It’s not easy being a grown-up cat at a shelter. Humans usually want younger cats or silly fluffball kittens. It can be frustrating. Us adult cats are far calmer an we’ve already gone through all the no-kittens procedures an know all the ropes. But you know how humans are. Anyway, Paula told Mary she had the purr-fect cat for Clementine. Drako.”
“Huh? Who’s Drako?”
“That was my shelter name, if you can believe it. Thank Garfield, Mary changed it to one more befitting my stature.”
“For sure!”
“Mary agreed I WAS the purrfect pal for Clemmie. I had never made the slightest peep the whole time I was at the shelter, simply because I never had anything I felt like saying back then. However, from the moment I set paw in my new home an met Clemmie, I pretty much stopped brooding and just sort of blossomed. Now, as you can tell, I’m a very vocal fellow. I have a broad vo-CAT-you-larry an communicate easily with Clemmie an Mary.”
Suddenly, I heard this soft, liddle voice, and looked up from my notebook to see a delicate ginger tabby approaching, with the biggest green eyes, a big white bib anna very, very long cream-colored tail that stood straight up. Clementine!
“Are you talkin’ about me, Beau?” she said. Then, to me, “I’m quite shy around strangers, an not at all comf-tubble with dogs, no offense. But Mary an Beau say you’re Cool Catnip, an that’s good enough for me.”
“It’s a true pleasure, Miss Clementine,” I said. “I have several cat frens, from whom I’ve learned a lot. I must admit, you speak Dog a lot better than I speak Cat. But I’m learning.”
She smiled. “That’s usually the case. Anyway (are you taking all this down?), Mary got me from the shelter in 2006 as a liddle 4-month-old ginger fluffball. Mary’s sister Margaret named me Clementine cuz I was the color of that froot. I liked Beau from the moment he arrived. Me an him an Mary are each other’s best frens. Me an Beau sleep together. When Mary gets out of bed in the morning, we jump in an snooze a liddle longer. I don’t get around like I use to an I have some ISH-yous, so snoozing is my pre-furred pastime.
“One of our favrite places to hang out is in Mary’s office. We each have a cozy bed side-by-side in the sun right by the door to the courtyard. SO comfy. (Don’t let it get around, but our beds are – dog beds.) We also have our own chairs on the screen porch. We share toys, an our potty box. Beau loves playin’ with toys but me, I prefer lizards. Back in my youth I was an amazing Huntress. Now, not so much. I just dream about the Glory Days.”
Beau spoke up. “Mary has this three-section recliner for watchin’ TV. She sits in the middle an we have our own smaller seats, one on each side. It’s purr-fect! I also have this terrific seat/scratch post.”
He ran over an sat in it. It was a big, sideways Ess, with some scratchy stuff at the front. He looked Very Important in it.
Heading home, I was grinning like a Cheshire thinking about my two newest feline frens, Clementine an Beauregard, two Totally Cool Kibbles cats, for sure.
Till next time,
The Bonz
