A Cat's Eye View of Life and Love by Sterling

by Marta Felber

  “Hold it right there!” I say to myself. If I traded places with Shadow, what would I not have? I list the things, counting on my toes, and I run out of toes. I will tell you some of them. I like having M around most of the time. It adds variety to my life that I don’t know when she is going and coming. Shadow’s black fur is beautiful, but silver-tipped blue-gray is more unusual, don’t you think? I need my weight, to push open the door to the deck that has been left open just a crack, for me to do this. That reminds me. I have a deck, and I am up high when I am there. I walk on the railing and I am not afraid. Yes, food is important, but it’s not everything. And, I hope that someday, when the vet says so, we can go back to the stuff that tastes better. Shadow does not have the box with holes, for Smart Cats, like I do. She has to drink her water out of a plain bowl, and doesn’t have a water fountain.

  I could list more of my benefits, but I stop, and think about M. I don’t know what it would be like to have Son Number Three permanently. I do know what M is like, day in and day out. We have our ups and downs, but we survive. We are the best of friends. I love her, and she loves me. I could not ask for anything more.

  Mewsings

  Most of us are jealous sometimes,

  of what others are and have.

  It is best to admit it, and get it out in the open.

  We measure it against what we have, and who we are.

  Then we can be truly thankful for our blessings.

  ENJOYING MY FAVORITE PEOPLE

  “I am certain that there was an important man in Ling’s life before I found him.” I have heard this over and over, especially when M is trying to explain to someone why I am “all over” a man, as she calls it. Maybe it is true there was a special man in my past. I can’t remember, hard as I try, but she is right that I do like men. I definitely prefer men vets to women vets, and I don’t know why that is true, either. Maybe you are thinking that I’m just tired of having a woman as a mistress. No, I do like M better than any man I know. But, I do like the men who come to our house.

  Take the “computer geek,” as M calls him. He always comes, after M practically tears her hair out at what the computer is doing, or not doing. She seems as happy to see him as I am. He goes directly to the office, and I follow. He barely sits down before I am in his lap. He operates much better than M does with me on board. He can pet me with one hand, and do what he has to do at the computer at the same time. Even when I walk in front of the screen, or on the table beside him, he keeps petting me.

  On his first visit, M tried to get me down, but Computer Geek said, “Please, leave him. I like him here.” That’s all I needed to hear. “You must have cats at your house,” commented M. “Oh, no, I am a dog person!”

  M’s Son Number Three lives not too far away. I never know when he is coming, but he is my favorite man friend. I don’t think he even says “Hi Mom,” before he calls my name. “Sterling, where are you?” I come running, and he always picks me up. Wonder why M does not always lift me when I run to her? Am I too heavy?

  Son Three knows just how to hold me. I feel so secure. He puts his head down to mine. I want to whisper in his ear that I am glad to see him. He knows just how to scratch my neck and between my ears. I wonder who taught him to scratch in just the right way. Playing ball with him is my favorite, and we always have long games. Son Three must have been a pitcher sometime in his life. He puts speed on the ball, and it always goes straight. I won’t compare his pitching with M’s attempts. He has ideas for games that M has not thought of. It’s probably man stuff. I get my exercise for the day, and maybe he does too. I am worn out, stop, and take a rest.

  It is then, only then, that Son Three pays attention to his Mom.

  Mewsings

  We do have favorite people.

  It’s okay that we do.

  We soak up the attention they give us.

  They appear to have enough left over

  to give to others.

  Can we do that too?

  DEVELOPING THE ART OF NAPPING

  “I don’t have time to nap,” you may think as you read the title of this story. I understand why you are thinking you don’t have time. Only cats know otherwise. To prove my point, let’s do an experiment. Close your eyes and relax your entire body, every muscle, from top of head to bottom of feet, or the other way around, if that feels better. Check that you are totally relaxed. Only then will you close your eyes and float away, into a world of nothing. If it helps, float on clouds, into a sunset. Float, stay a very short time, and come back to me.

  Congratulations! You have just taken a Cat Nap, a cat’s number-one secret. Remember. You can cat nap in seconds, in less than a minute. You come back from your nap refreshed, and ready to accomplish whatever you choose. Cats do it all the time.

  Then there is the During-the-Day Nap. It can be done, as needed, when you are tired. If you are being paid for your time, or you are in school, or otherwise engaged, you will need to keep your eyes open. Yes, you can nap, with eyes focused on nothing. Find a nothing surface now, on which to practice. If you have a chair with a head rest, it helps. Otherwise, lock your neck into position, and proceed. Again, relax the body, as you did in the Cat Nap, except neck muscles, if needed. Completely remove yourself from where you are, into a nothingness world. Stay as long as you are allowed, and then return, refreshed. You have seen cats do this. You just thought they were awake.

  There are those of us who have the luxury of traditional naps. You may be one of these. We select a peaceful spot, perhaps in the sunshine. We adopt our most comfortable position. We breathe slowly, relaxing completely at the end of every breath. Our mind is cleared of anything negative or disturbing. We focus on our favorite scene in our mind. We slip away.

  We do return. Here is where I need to tell you something very important. Cats have inner alarm clocks. I do not have to set mine at night. M takes care of that, with hers. When I take my longer naps, at least once a day, I do set my alarm clock. You are wondering why. It is as simple as this. If I sleep too long during the day, it is more difficult to sleep at night, when M is getting her sleep. Oh, I do get up at night, sometimes, especially if I am hungry and have kept some leftover food in my bowl. I enjoy the stillness and semi-darkness. Soon I get sleepy, however, and need to return to our bed. I sleep until M’s alarm clock wakes me in the morning.

  Mewsings

  Napping is an art perfected by cats.

  Everyone can adapt it to their individual needs.

  Practice it every day, perfecting it as you continue.

  Remember always to set an alarm for the longer naps,

  to protect your nighttime sleep.

  DEALING WITH FEAR OF ME

  The doorbell rings. We play our usual game, M and I, to see who gets there first. Today, I win. That means M has to take her foot and push me away from the door. Otherwise, she knows, and I know, that I will rush outside.

  Here stands this big guy, really big. “Come in,” says M, and I know she is expecting him, to fix something or other that needs fixing. But he just stands there and his eyes get big. Is he sick?

  “C-C-Could you put your c-c-cat in a room?” he manages to say.

  “Yes, of course. What’s the matter?” asks M. I want to know too. “I-I-I’m afraid of c-ccats!” he stammers.

  I begin to back up. I am in shock. This makes it easy for M to lift me and banish me to the basement area. She closes the door. I sit and think.

  Never in my life have I seen a person afraid of me. Other cats, yes, sometimes. And the birds and squirrels on the other side of the windows on the porch. But, never has a man been afraid, especially one so big. It was as if his fear was frozen in his eyes. Did I do something to cause this? How could I, when I’ve never seen Afraid of Me before? Has my appearance changed, without my knowing it? I can’t see myself, but I don’t think I have changed. I feel the same today as I felt yesterday, except more uncertain, right now. Maybe Afraid of Me doesn’t like the color of my gray fur, wi
th blue mixed in. I happen to like the color of me. Other people talk about how my fur looks silver in the sun. Am I too big? Come on, Ling. Look how big he is! I’ve run out of questions that have no answers. How long will Afraid of Me stay? At least I have a litter box down here.

  Here comes M. She’s always in a good mood when she gets something fixed that has been bugging her. “Guess what, Ling? I asked the serviceman why he is afraid of cats. He said he was scratched and scared by a cat when he was little.” A likely story, I am thinking. How could he possibly ever have been little?

  Mewsings

  Afraid of Me is not afraid of me.

  He is afraid of another cat, a cat from his past.

  When the behavior does not match the situation,

  something else is going on, underneath.

  He is unable to see the real me:

  friendly, lovable, and fun to be with.

  BECOMING INVISIBLE

  It would be fun to say “Poof,” and become invisible. I can come close, when I move noiselessly around. I have pads on the bottoms of all four feet. When someone’s back is turned, they can’t see me, and they can’t hear me. I’ll share some of the things I have experienced and learned in this fashion.

  M has different personalities. I can count on the way she relates to me. But, with other people, and in other situations, she can be quite different. Take, for example, her relationship with Son Number Three, a favorite of mine. I’m glad he lives close by. Yes, M gets a hug from him, if she beats me to the door. He fixes things for her that need fixing since his last visit, and she thanks him. But there are a few times when she sits him down for a serious talk. She doesn’t talk to me that way. It is what I would call “dressing him down.” I wonder what he has done that a mother doesn’t like. Thank goodness they part friends.

  When I see M’s “Laughing Friend” at the door, I tiptoe away, and they never even know I am there, or miss me. From that moment on, they chuckle and laugh—at what, I have no clue. Laughing Friend tells a story, and they laugh. M tells a story, and they laugh. Sometimes it seems they only have to look at each other, and that sets them off again. At least once during the visit, they laugh so hard they cry. What can possibly be so funny? They never stop until M remembers to get the coffee and treats she has prepared.

  M has a special place for sorting her mail. She throws some of it on the floor, in disgust. She saves some in a pile, to take to her office. Once in a while, she has what I presume is a personal letter to read. I watch how she responds: a smile for one; look of surprise when reading another; a chuckle or a shake of her head in the middle of others. One letter caused her to cry, hard. I wanted to cry too, and hold her.

  My very favorite time to be invisible is when M is on the phone with someone who evidently wants the entire scoop on me. “You won’t believe what Ling did this morning. (I don’t remember doing anything differently.) “I could have paddled his behind last night.” (For what, I now wonder?) “Ling is so funny!” (Then why doesn’t she laugh harder when I do funny things?) “I can’t imagine what life would be like without Ling.” (Me neither.)

  Mewsings

  Watching and listening are learned behaviors.

  We keep our mouths shut, ears open, and don’t move.

  People we know have different sides to their personalities.

  Knowing these sides helps us to relate in more meaningful ways,

  and to appreciate them even more.

  CELEBRATING MY BIRTHDAY

  The day starts with M singing “Happy Birthday” to me. She sounds out of tune, and it hurts my ears. She sings another verse, trying to follow the same tune. “How old are you, and I wish we knew.” On my first visit to see him, my vet looked at my teeth and decided “Sterling is about three.” Did my teeth speak to him? So M selected the day she first met me as my birthday.

  It is quiet for a while. M has forgotten about my birthday—or was it taken care of with that silly song? I want cards, like M got on her birthday. I remember she lined them up on the shelf above the computer, and I knocked them down. I hear her talking with Son Number Three on the phone, planning a party for me. “I’m bringing balloons to blow up, a bag of new toys, and treats for the cats. I’m stopping at the bakery for a breakfast cake for you and me.” I want to ask, “What about a cake for me?”

  I get dumped in the car, along with all the stuff M has promised, plus my litter box. Remember how I hate traveling in the car? I can’t crawl on M because she guards herself with her arm. I put my front paws up at the front window. I slide off. I yell, and yell some more. M says we will soon be at Son Number Three’s home. I am exhausted, and my party has not even begun.

  Shadow is okay, I guess, for a kid cat. She sniffs at me, as usual, and follows me wherever I go. “Get lost.” I say. She hisses at me. I hiss back. That’s when I am told to “be nice to the little cat.” I want to shout, “It’s my birthday, remember. Be nice to me!”

  M and Son Number Three have a wonderful time playing with the new toys, batting the balloons around, and eating their cake. As soon as possible, I disappear upstairs and won’t come down until I am picked up and forced to do so. I crawl under the heavy couch and refuse to come out. This is the only fun part of the day. M tries sweet talk. Son Number Three squeaks a balloon in my face, but I huddle further under the couch. Next comes a broom, but I dodge it. Finally they send Shadow in, and I refuse to share my hiding place with her. Out I come!

  Again, I get thrown into the car, along with my litter box. I am glad that M remembered my new toys, even though I did not play with them at Son Number Three’s home. I think it is overly generous of M to leave one of my birthday toys for Shadow.

  Home has never looked so good! I will be staying right here for my next birthday. If he wants to, Son Number Three can come, bring new toys and a cake, or maybe salmon for me instead. I would even welcome Shadow, if she promises not to hiss at me.

  Mewsings

  Birthdays, and other looked-forward-to events,

  can be disappointing.

  What others plan may not be

  what we would plan.

  We communicate our feelings in whatever ways we can.

  We anticipate jointly planned celebrations in the future.

  ACCEPTING WHAT I CAN’T CHANGE

  Sometimes I wish M were a cat. She would be blonde and beautiful, with big blue eyes. Imagine her next to my dark gray and silver-tipped fur—we would make a lovely couple. I can just hear her soft meow. She might even help me wash the places that are hard for me to reach. We could take turns.

  If only M were a cat, she could understand my answers to her questions: “Ling, what are you trying to tell me?”

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Why don’t you do what I tell you to do?”

  “What, in heaven’s name, made you do that?”

  “Did you sleep good last night?”

  “Would you like a game of find-the-mouse?”

  Wouldn’t she be surprised if I, in her language, answered her each time she asked a question?

  If only M were a cat, I would always have company, especially when I am lonely. M, as a human, tries to romp and play, but she just can’t seem to get the hang of it. M, as a cat, would know when it was time to play and when to sleep and when to explore and when just to hang out. If only M were a cat.

  Don’t you just love advice-givers? M’s friends have all kinds of suggestions about how to deal with the problems she has with me. Top of the bad advice list is, “What Sterling needs is another cat to keep him company.” Heaven forbid! I’d have to share M. I absolutely, positively, refuse to accept that, ever! Amen.

  Mewsings

  There are things in life we have difficulty accepting.

  We can imagine how life would be, if things were different.

  Imagining does not change reality, however.

  We need to make the best of what we have.

  Be aware, well-wishers make suggestions that may
not work.

  SENSING THE INTRUDER

  Impossible! No, it cannot be true! I sense another cat in this house. M would not do that to me! She would not bring another cat into our lives. Our world is just perfect— well, almost perfect—the way it is.

  The door to our bedroom is closed. Why? Whatever happened must have taken place when I was out on the deck. I wondered why M almost pushed me out, and closed the door until it clicked shut behind me. Usually she leaves the door to the deck open just a crack. I am strong enough to push it open enough to squeeze through, and get back into the house.

  When M finally lets me in from the deck, I go to the closed bedroom door, put my nose to the bottom, and sniff. I take in a deep breath and, yes, I do smell a cat! I would know that smell anywhere. There cannot be another cat in this house. I must get into the bedroom and prove there is not!

  I sit and wait. I see M, and I want to ask her what is going on, but she rushes past me.

  I leave my post for a trip to the litter box. When I return, I can’t find M. I look in every room, except our bedroom, of course, which has the door closed. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen that door shut before.

  Here comes M, out of the bedroom. I try to get in, but she pushes me aside with her foot, as she closes the door behind her. Do I see a fleeting glimpse of a cat? Or is that my imagination? Drat! I must get into the bedroom, and check for an Intruder.

  Again, I take up my post outside the bedroom door. Maybe I should get back to my daily routine, but nothing else seems important. The whiff of another cat pushes everything else out of my mind.