July 6, 2015

• Garden Variety Drama

  Before dawn I'm out checking on the neighbor's chickens and puttering in my vegetable garden. Today it was cool and overcast, a rare day in July. Strolling through the yard, I noticed three of my cats in a semi-circle, intently watching something. I found the object of their attention immediately: a hapless gopher who had evidently been isolated from his burrow and was now being used as a toy for my overfed house cats. At first I walked away, not wanting to witness the torture. But upon reflection I realized that it was inhumane to allow them to torture the poor thing and, maybe a more motivating thought, was the fact that I couldn't trust the inept felines not to let him go back to wreaking havoc in my tomato patch when they were through with him. I considered how to capture the varmint, thinking I could turn him loose in the field across the street. Nothing came immediately to mind until I thought of Blackie.

  Blackie has known many incarnations since he came to us, a fully grown tom cat, lithe and muscular, with chipmunk cheeks. It took several months to gain his trust enough to lure him into a cat carrier so he could be transported to have his reason for living removed. We don't feed strays unless they agree to give up their promiscuous ways. He was prone to biting, never having been civilized in his youth, so we were wary of handling him. I was incredulous when the veterinary technician who brought him to the front after his brain transplant told me what a sweet cat he was. In fact all the girls in the office came to say good-bye to the rake.

  Though his obvious name was Blackie, he came to be known as Meathead as neutering did little to mitigate his appetite for a good fight and he always seemed to lead with his head. If you look closely, you can see open wounds just below his ear. He mellowed with age and became close friends with Bob.

  

  He became quite the lap cat, though one still had to beware not to piss him off because he would still bite, albeit gently.

  

  In later years his passion for fighting was replaced by an insatiable appetite for anything that resembled food. Meathead became Tank when he routinely bulldozed his way into anyone's feed dish, oblivious to their complaints and threats (still leading with his head). The other night a family of Raccoons came through foraging for food. One of the adults was intent on having some of the dry cat food that remained on the table after kitty dinner. Blackie, now in his dotage, stood his ground, hissing and growling at the intruder who was twice his size. The benevolent raccoon respectfully looked Blackie in the eye and held his gaze while he smoothly reached out and slowly pulled the bowl away from Blackie's menacing face.

  But I digress. In addition to being a cat's cat, Blackie is the consummate gopher catcher. And even though he has only one incisor left, I still rely on him to be my henchman when I drive a gopher to the surface with a garden hose. I went to the patio (where he spends his days near the food bowl) and picked him up.  His frail and wasted body cuddled contentedly against my chest, he allowed me to carry him to the back yard where Garfield, Eva, and Other Gray Kitty had let the gopher escape into the tomato patch. Blackie sized up the situation in an instant. His head came off my chest as he looked around to see what the other cats were interested in. I set him down near the open gopher hole which he sniffed briefly and looked around. He spotted movement in the foliage and faster than I could see, he plunged in. I heard a guttural snarling and moments later he emerged with his prey. He dispatched it as quickly and humanely as his single fang would allow. He looked around at the other cats as if to say, "Don't even THINK about trying to take this prize away from me." He then walked sedately back to the patio to enjoy the fruits of his labor.

  This is Blackie-Meathead-Tank as he looks today. He drools uncontrollably, he's gray and bony, but he's still a sweetheart of a cat who can snatch a gopher out of it's hole faster than you can blink.

  

   

  • 4:28 pm
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