Even tho several of my good frens are cats, the first time I met Leonardo Brandt, I thought he hadda be some kind of fee-line ROYAL-tee. He just had That Look: not Snob Nose, just Impressive an SEER-EE-us. (An, just the teensiest bit in-TIM-UH-dating.)
Anyway, a nice lady welcomed me an my assistant in an led us to the living room. An There He WAS! Sittin’ onna throne (ackshully a couch), a long body, paws crossed, very fluffy, thick gold fur, cut like a lion’s mane around his face, and big, golden eyes: kind eyes, but I was sure he could look right into my head with ’em. He reminded me of King Mufasa, you know, from that moo-vee.
“Hello, hello, DO come in. Have a seat. Make yourselves comf-tubble,” he said, inna low, frenly voice. “I’m SO pleased you could come. I, of course, am Leonardo Brandt, an this is my Mom May. My Dad’s Fred. He’s elsewhere at the moment.”
We sat, an I innerduced myself an my assistant.
“Totally my pleasure, Mr. Leonardo, sir,” I said, feeling a liddle flustered.
Leonardo laughed. “Please call me Leo! I know I sorta have ‘That Look.’ You see, I am of Scandinavian descent: My ancestors were Norwegian Forest cats, said to have travelled to Norway with the Vikings (very brave, adventurous an kinda scary humans) a Very Long Time Ago. So we have all this long fur, plus an undercoat for in-suh-LAY-shun. An, probly cuzza the way we look, humans like to give us this hairstyle which, I Totally Admit, I do purr-FUR. But, full disclosure, I myself am a rescue.”
I opened my notebook. “I’m so eager to hear your tail Mr., um, I mean – Leo.”
He readjusted his Impressive Fluffy Tail, an began. “For reasons still unclear to me, back in 2012, me an my several litter mates found ourselves at the Humane Society, a bunch of orange and white fluffballs available for adoption. As luck would have it, Mom an Dad had always been Cat People, an they dropped by. Well, while my brothers an sisters were tumblin’ around, My in-stinks told me to come right over to Mom. I’ve heard dogs have that same kind of in-stink. Is that so?”
“Absolutely,” I replied.
“Well, needless to say, I had found my Furever Home. When I was liddle, Mom wondered if I thought I was ackshully a dog, mostly cuz I loved to play ball. I’d grab it an bring it back to Dad, like that dog thing, Fetch; an I’d also run to the front door when somebody knocked. I NEVER do THAT anymore. However, when Mom sets the dining table I do sit by it an wait expectantly. An when Mom sorts an folds clothes, I enjoy supervising by jumpin’ to the counter, then up to the top of the cabinet, meowin’ a liddle and runnin’ back an forth. Just buh-tween you an me, Bonzo, I like keepin’ the Mysterious Cat miss-TEEK alive.”
“I’ll never tell,” I promised. (Us dogs wouldn’t know a miss-teek if we tripped over one, but it’s fun to help a fellow pet keep up the image.)
“When Mom has her Book Club frens over,” Leo continued, “I greet them an hang out waitin’ for liddle pats (an perhaps the random snack). As a result, I have become an avid reader. I prefer the old volumes, you know, like Mark Twain. I also enjoy your paper, Vero Beach 32963 is it? I paw-ruse it just before my nap.
“I do on occasion watch TV, mostly with Dad. I enjoy NAY-chur shows, cuz there’s usually lotsa birds an squirrels. Me an Dad also watch something called basketball, which is a liddle boring, in my opinion, just lotsa tall humans runnin back an forth bouncin’ a ball. An there’s a lotta hollering. Dad’s favorite team’s called Trail Blazers. Definitely a human thing.
“I am,” he continued, “quite adept at finding cozy liddle spots to take my nap. Like, amongst the fluffy towels in the towel drawer, or with the cleaning rags. Probly my fave hiding spot is under a rug. When I get under one, all you see is a Mysterious Lump. My favrite hangout’s in Mom’s STOO-dee-o. She’s an ARD-ist and has lotsa brushes, which I like sittin’ on. I consider myself her MUSE.
“Oh, an, I have become a Garden Enthusiast: I am a great help to Mom when she gardens an, I’m proud to say, I Do Not Eat the Flowers. Mom says we should respect flowers, not eat them.
Instead, I play in ’em an pretend I’m Leo of the Jungle. I also enjoy eatin’ GRASS! Mom’s maybe gonna get me some LEMON grass. It’s important to get enough GREENS, right?”
“Right!” I concurred.
“Sometimes, I hafta be onna leash when I’m outside because there’ve been a coupla big cats in our yard. An they all have the same name, which I think is a liddle weird: Bob.”
“That is strange,” I agreed.
“I’m not afraid of ’em, tho. If I wasn’t onna leash, I’d go right up to one of those Bobs an order ’em to Get Outta My Yard. But Mom won’t let me.”
“That’s probly proo-dent,” I observed. “Do you have human or cat pals?”
“Oh, yes. I have a Cool Catnip famly. There’s Aunt Astrid, Uncle Ted, Mandy, my human brother Matt, cat cousins Raja an Calvin (as long as they stay away from my food).”
“Any toys?” I inquired.
“Honestly, Bonzo, I do have one of those Cat Trees an The Usual Stuff, but I really prefer cardbored boxes Mom’s gonna throw away. I mean, they serve a DOOL purpose: holdin’ stuff AN I can protect Mom by hiding in ’em to Keep WATCH for nuh-FAIRY-us Bad Guys.”
Headin’ home I was thinkin’ what an an intrestin’, not-intimidatin’ fellow pet Leo is, an how, as I’m sure Leo’d say, you can’t judge a book by its cover. An wonderin’ if maybe Gramma or Grampa could plant a liddle patch of lemon grass for me. Dogs should have greens too, doncha think?
