| I have wonderful kitties. |
[Apr. 23rd, 2009|03:14 am] |
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| | Miracle Legion | ] |
Cassandra and Jarvis live with me.
I don't know exactly where Jarvis came from. When Nate Beal was living on the corner of Congress and Kellogg Street, and his relationship with Katherine was new, one day she just appeared with a tiny black kitten. He needed special attention because he'd been taken from his mother too early. She had to massage his butthole so he could poop, otherwise his guts would just fill up with shit.
When Katherine and Beal moved in together, their roommate had a cat, who I believe she called Zool. Because Zool is a stupid name, Beal and Katherine renamed the cat Noodles. Jarvis and Noodles were in love. They were both bold, mischievous kitties, who liked to jump on people and hang off of them. One day the roommate left, and took the cat with her without warning, and Jarvis was heartbroken.
I moved in shortly after. Jarvis decided that I was the best thing he'd ever smelled, apparently, and started to spend most of his time rubbing himself on me and ass-walking on my floor. He stole my socks all the time. When it came time to move, Nate and I were originally going to take Jarvis, because Katherine was going to New York, and it seemed best for him. Unfortunately, our future landlord decided to change the rules at the last minute: No cats. He went with Katherine's dad, and I didn't get to see him for a long time; not until Katherine moved into my current apartment. When I saw him again, he was a lot skinnier than I remembered. He was always long and slender, but now, he's extraordinarily sleek. His eyes are still massive, and he's still a bold little fucker. I love him!
I took Cassandra from the Animal Refuge League in Westbrook. I had talked about finding a pure white kitty, but didn't expect to really find one. We were there to donate food. I looked around at the kitties, and they were all very outgoing. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a little white lump of fur curled up inside her litterbox, and I went to investigate. She turned around at about the time I knelt to see her. She had huge eyes and a tiny little mouth. She was skinny and had just finished treatment for a series of illnesses. She had been abused previously, and she's got major issues because of it. She was clearly damaged.
In the shelter, she just wanted to hide and sleep, and lashed out at anyone who got close. I needed to have her, so I expressed interest and began courting her, so to speak. I received a lot of scratches and hissing, but eventually I got her to eat treats out of my hand. She's very good at it, she doesn't even bite me.
After I'd convinced the ARL I was suitable for Cassandra (Daria at the time) a couple days later, I brought her home. We tried to keep her in an empty room in the beginning, to ease her into the house. She escaped the room pretty quickly, and began hiding under the futon in the living room. Sometimes she would sneak into Ian's room and hide under his bed.
One day I came home from work to feed her, and she was gone. I was devastated. I didn't know about a space behind the bathroom sink, and I thought she had gotten out. This little sweet kitty, whose life began with such bullshit, could have been back out on her own to receive more hardship with her poorly developed survival skills and it was all my fault. But then Liz, who lived in this apartment before I did, told me about this space, where her kitty Prince Vince used to hide. She stayed there for a long time, only coming out to eat. It was difficult. She didn't like to play. She didn't like catnip. She just wanted to be safe and alone behind the washing machine.
After about a month or so, I finally moved all her food stuff into the kitchen, and she did eventually begin coming out only to return to the hole in the bathroom after eating. One day, out of nowhere, she just started wandering around in the kitchen and decided she wanted to start demanding attention. She started getting fat, sleeping on my bed with me, and purring. It was really great. She hadn't yet, and still hasn't learned how to control herself when she gets riled up, and she scratches and bites unyieldingly, often over little more than being touched. At times we realize she's trying to play, but most of the time, she's actually angry for no reason and wants to hurt you. I spent a long time fighting with her over nothing, where she would scratch and attack me over nothing, and seconds later demand that I pay attention to her, only to scratch me again. My hands bled constantly for months before I learned how to handle her better. She's much nicer now.
She shows that she appreciates me. She stares at me whenever I'm in view. She follows me and makes sure I can see her whenever possible. She loves me, and I love her as well.
When Jarvis moved in, he instantly decided he loved Cassandra. She was his new Noodles. She's still not entirely sure she feels the same, and she beats him up all the time for trying to be nice. I feel sorry for him, but he's also really annoying, and it's nice to have someone else take the brunt of her tantrums. Even so, it's clear that she's warmed up to him a lot, and I'm convinced now that she needs him around. When he went to the vet to get his eye looked at, (her fault) she was confused and cried a lot, and stayed by the door waiting.
Jarvis follows everyone. He follows Cassandra the most, licking her and chewing on her asshole. He antagonizes all the time, because that's how he shows affection, and she returns with slaps and bites. It's all just in good fun though, for the most part. Um. I think.
Prince Vince and Sister live on High Street.
Sister just came out of nowhere. Jessie brought her home one day when she lived on Vesper Street. I don't remember much about that, only that Katherine was pissed that everyone was getting black cats after she got one. Sister was clearly fucked in the head. Something was always a little off about her, but she was very affectionate. No one could agree on a name for her for a long time.
After Jessie left Vesper Street, Sister stayed. By then, she'd grown fat from stealing food and raiding cupboards. She ate all the time for some reason. One day, she was sitting at the window in the kitchen, and leaned on the screen, pushing it out and falling from the second floor. She was missing for a couple weeks, I think.
Liz got Prince Vince shortly after I met her. When he was a baby, he had small round eyes and looked confused all the time. He was really fun and loved Liz very much. She slept in a closet in a room she shared with someone, and he always slept with us. His confused face quickly turned into one of mischief. He played rough, and liked to attack the obese old blind kitty who lived there, appearing to grin with malicious amusement the whole time. We liked to spin him and throw him and put him in boxes, and he enjoyed it as well. I think the way we played with him has contributed to the type of kitty he is today, and I'm very proud of that.
We're not sure when, but one day we noticed Vince had a lump right above his nose. For some reason, his personality changed a little around that time. He'd decided to settle down a little. He stopped purring as much. He still followed Liz around everywhere, but a lot of that was because she was the food source. She moved into the place where I live now. Here, we used to spin him in a hamper lid. He sat in it, we spun him until he fell out, and then he got back in. He liked games like that. He liked to jump as high as he could to reach for his favorite toys, and chase them obsessively in a game of keep-away.
Vince rarely scratches or bites to hurt. He has always been very gentle with people. With Liz he's a little more challenging, because she's his mommy and she is the main figure in his life. When she picks him up, he climbs onto her back and sits there while she has to bend over until he decides to jump off.
Liz moved to High Street with her sister and Jessie. Jessie brought Sister to High Street, and she met Vince. Vince naturally resumed the torture he once laid upon the old cat from the Dartmouth Street apartment. He likes her, despite his behavior, and he likes her too. Almost daily, Vince escapes and goes into the basement to talk to ghosts. Sister always waits by the door, and if someone comes in, she follows them, demanding they bring Vince back. They are both very smart. Recently, Vince found out that by hanging from it, he could pull the window open with his body weight, and gain access to the roof.
I'm sorry, the anecdotes are beginning to take control here. I'll wrap it up.
These cats have all had strange lives with my friends and I, and they are a central focus in my life. They are sweet, intelligent little cocksuckers with extremely expressive personalities. They anchor me to Portland and the two houses in which I spend my time. If Jarvis hadn't moved in with us, I'd have tossed this city away, moved somewhere and brought Cassandra with me. But I wouldn't do that now. The choices we make about our lives profoundly affect the only relationships the kitties have. They can't control that. It's not fair.
I'm afraid of what will happen when the living situation on High Street collapses. More than Cassandra and Jarvis, Vince and Sister are a unit now. It is very sad to think of what they would do without each other, mostly what Sister would do. Vince is kind of a callous, brooding type these days. I have no doubt he'd go on laying around, demanding food, and trying to get into basements. Sister might sit by the door everyday hoping someone will bring Vince back.
I'm writing about the kitties because wherever I go in my day, and whatever happens, they remain constant. They always want to be seen and touched and fed, and always look at me like they understand what's happening inside my head. I don't have a lot of friends about whom I can say that. What few I do have, their problems are too much for me, and my problems are too much for them. We can engage in pissing contests, and take comfort in our mutual frustrations, but we can never fully understand one another. We can't ever have anything like I have with the kitties.
What the fuck is that all about? |
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