Yearnings of a Declawed Cat

Here's a recent picture of my cat, Reggie, who was once a stray and already declawed when I adopted him. Hence, the reason I named this photo “Yearnings of a Declawed Cat.”

Enough said.

A Fraidy-Cat

I was once a happy fellow, roughhousing with my furry roommate in Pennsylvania. But that all changed this past weekend when I had a run-in with some dogs, a bathtub and a blow dryer.

On Saturday, my human gave me up for adoption. His mother is my new owner and her name is Mary Gallagher Williams. She's such a nice lady. She even let me sit on her lap during the long drive to Maine.

I'm a Maine Coon cat, so I was excited to be moving to my ancestral land. We arrived in Maine four hours later. And I like my new digs.

However, the next day I felt uneasy when my new mom coaxed me into a wire box, put it in the backseat of the car, and started driving to who knows where. Why couldn’t I sit on her lap again?

I had a meltdown and peed in the cage. What could be more embarrassing than sitting in your own urine? My thick coat was now soaked. Did I mention I hate being wet?

I whined, but Mom just kept on driving, telling me everything would be okay soon. She didn't realize I had peed everywhere.

Finally, we arrived at her sister's house in the country. Mom said we’d be staying here while her sister is in Florida for Christmas. I don't care about all that stuff since my immediate concern was the pee soaking into my fur.

Mom carried the cage and me into the house. That's when I saw them. Two canine critters. They began to bark, growl and circle my cage like Indians circling a wagon train. Were they going to scalp me? After all, I do have a beautiful fur coat that Maine Coons are known for.

I tried hissing to chase away the dogs, but they just kept going around and around with their yappy war cry. Thankfully, Mom put the cage and me in the guestroom and shut the door. It was dark in there. Very dark.

Next thing I knew, Mom was carrying me tenderly in her arms. She cooed in my ear and tried to soothe my frazzled nerves. We entered another room that had a big vat filled with water. She called it the bathtub.

My heart began beating faster as she dangled me over that tub. I fought valiantly, but lost the good fight when she plunged me into the warm liquid. I like warmth, but did I mention I hate being wet?

How humiliating. The nerve of her taking this photo. Just look at me. Wouldn't you be horrified if someone took a picture of you looking like this? Did I mention I hate being wet?

Yes, I was once a happy-go-lucky kind of guy who used to play with his feline brother. However, within the last 24 hours, I've peed on myself, been circled by furry Indians, and took a dive into a tub full of water. I don't think my new human has my best interest at heart.

You would think I had enough trauma for one day, but no. She proceeded to point a thing at me that looked like a red gun. Although it dried my fur, the loud noise frightened me.

I tried swatting at the unseen enemy blowing out of the darn thing, but I couldn't stop it.

I'm a fraidy-cat and really scared. This lady is crazy mad.

A Grandfather Battles Hello Kitty

A balloon measuring just over 4 feet tall and shaped like Hello Kitty stood in the lobby like a sentinel keeping watch. A little tyke toddled right up to it with his grandfather in tow.

No one could have predicted the scene that was about to unfold outside the gift shop of this Dallas institution.

Although Hello Kitty’s feet were weighted down to keep her from floating away, an employee in the shop had taped the balloon to the wall so it would stay in place.

 

A helium-filled object billowing like an airbag usually doesn’t blend in very well with its surroundings. Swaying like a miniature blimp in a Thanksgiving Day parade, the white cat with the pink bow seemed to wave even though her arms were stationary. To a toddler standing less than 3 feet tall, this oversize kitty was just too much of a temptation to pass up.

At first, I hadn’t noticed the grandfather with the tiny boy as I stood beside the information desk nearby. Heavy foot traffic had held my attention until I heard the child’s blood-curdling scream.

There is nothing like the sight of a man wearing a suit coat trying to wrestle away a big Hello Kitty from a two year old.

Hello Kitty had become detached from the glass wall and was spinning as the duo ran circles around her. The child’s orange shirt and Hello Kitty’s pink dress blended with the man’s coattails in a whirlwind of chaos. Other people in the lobby stared as the struggle raged on.

Holding onto Hello Kitty’s ribbon leash, the toddler made sure the enormous feline remained between his grandfather and him. As their battle of wills continued, the gentleman spoke quietly to his grandson in a language I would later learn was his native African tongue. However, his coaxing was no match for the gargantuan eye candy enticing the little fellow. 

For a foreigner whose ancestors more than likely encountered man-eating predators on the African plain, this Ethiopian tried to control his grandson's obsession with the cartoon cat as best as he knew how. He probably never knew Hello Kitty existed before arriving in Dallas. However, he experienced what every American parent has dealt with for decades—clashing with their children over things they don’t need. 

Eventually, the assistant manager of the gift shop walked into the lobby and gently removed the balloon's ribbon from the youngster’s grasp. With big brown eyes, the child watched as Hello Kitty disappeared inside the shop, out of sight.

I’d sure like to be a fly on the wall in that man’s home once he returns to Ethiopia. I can just hear him weaving a humorous tale about prying his grandson from the grip of a big old ferocious feline in the United States.

Isn’t that how family folklore is spun at times? By embellishing a story?