Meet Kitty!
Name: ‘Kitty’ (aka ‘Kitty Carlisle’) (aka ‘YOOO HOOO’) (aka ‘ARE YOU HUNGRY?’ – I respond best to this one)
Breed: Calico
Likes: FOOD, FOOD, FOOD – simple as that. I know exactly what I want and when I want it (24/7), but getting my owner (I hate that word, but I’ll use it here because I know she’ll be reading this) to open the right can at the time I am craving that exact kind is my biggest challenge. In pursuit of my perfect meal, my owner opens up can after can after can. I’m mildly impressed with her willingness to do that, but why she wastes her time and mine using that approach is beyond me. All she has to do is open up the right can FIRST, not second, not third, and sure as heck, not last, but FIRST. Get it?
Another thing I like is playing with this object she calls a ‘kitty tease’. It looks like a poor excuse for a fishing pole with an old string attached and a strange scrunched up cloth fastened to the end like a fish. It’s not terribly attractive and the cloth is not even a little bit tasty, but dang if I don’t like to chase that around. I’ve always been very fast and my catching stats are still 99%, which is very good for someone my age and size (I’ll discuss my size in a little bit).
Dislikes: Thanks for the opportunity to let you know what I don’t like. It’s about time. I’m speaking directly to that woman (aka owner) that I live with.
I don’t like having to wait for you to open the door so I can go outside. Why don’t you make it easy on both of us and just leave the door open 24/7? Think about it.
I don’t like having to share my house with that little Siamese thing that thinks that just because she’s been living here longer than me, I have to somehow ‘fit into her world’. Would you consider moving her out? Or better yet, I hear she’s strictly an indoor cat and she would never know how to make it in the outside world, so… if we are going to leave the door open 24/7 (as I just requested), problem solved. I think she’ll do just fine out there…
I don’t like it when that little Siamese thing goes to her litter box (she has her very own, thank God) and if she does something really special, she (for no reason that makes any sense at all) turns into a total maniac and speeds around like a road runner up and down the stairs afterwards, and if anything or anyone gets in her way, heaven help them. Maybe some time you could let that Siamese wacko be ‘pet of the month’ so she could explain herself.
About Kitty: I am almost 13 years old. Let me start out by saying that I was recently adopted for the first time ever (January this year). I grew up with a wonderful family and lived with them my whole entire life until this adoption thing happened. I’ve always lived in beautiful houses because my owners happened to be luxury home builders so I got the taste of the fine life right from the get-go. At some point, they brought in this big guy cat to live with us and things changed. He wouldn’t leave me alone. I’m not a fighter and I’m sure as heck not his lover, so why couldn’t he just take a hint and cut me some slack? Anyway, between that and my owners moving to a high rise while building their next great house, I wanted OUT and I told them so. How? I got fat! That was the best strategy I could come up with, so let me explain.
My owners didn’t let me get fat – that never would have happened around them, but whenever they would go on vacation, they boarded me out to relatives and I used those opportunities to eat as much as I could and put on some pounds. It took a while, but I did it and it was kinda cool. If they had used Sit-A-Pet’s at home services, I wouldn’t have had a chance to chunk up. But I digress.
Like I said, my owners were living in a high rise this past year which meant I couldn’t go outside anymore and run around to stay trim. They watched me getting fatter and fatter and lazier and lazier and they figured that if they didn’t find me a different living situation soon, I would get so big that I’d have to go on a reality show to lose the weight. (I would have been ok with that since I am a bit of a show off and would have loved the spotlight, Hollywood, the whole scene.)
At some point, they saw an ad for Sit-A-Pet and on a whim, called and spoke to Claire, the manager. They asked if she knew of anyone who might like to adopt me and let me be the outside cat I was meant to be. I was not told about this plan, but maybe that’s for the best. Anyway in no time at all, this old lady showed up at the high rise, talked to my family, looked me over for like a second, and within a couple days, she came and whisked me away. What was with that?
She brought me to this teeny tiny house in what turned out to be a very cool Arlington neighborhood. She segregated me from that little Siamese thing (that I already told you about) for days on end. She also would not let me outside for a full week. There I was FINALLY ground level with mother earth again, not looking down from the 21st floor of a high rise, and I couldn’t even get out and roll in the grass. She was scared I wouldn’t know my way around the neighborhood and that I would run off. I tried to tell her she had nothing to worry about. I wasn’t going to run off because I already had figured out that this broad was doing a good job feeding me what I wanted (even if it took her several cans to do so), the house was very cool, and the neighborhood (from what I could see and smell of it) seemed like a pretty neat and friendly little place.
FINALLY, one day she opened the door and let me outside. I kept within her sight just to keep her calm, and then I drifted out to explore further. I heard her calling me from time to time, but ignored that and an hour later showed up at her back door. She was relieved and ever since then, I got to go outside any time I wanted to, as long as she was home, that is.
Then one day, she decided to see what I would do if she drove off, leaving me out on my own. She was gone a little over an hour, just long enough for things to happen. She came home, didn’t see me at the front or back door. She called and called me. She walked up and down the street. I was calling to her as well, but for some reason, she didn’t seem to know for sure if it was me talking or a baby crying (like the two are even the same). Anyway, lucky for me, she was persistent. She kept hearing ‘something’ as she walked down the street, and to get closer to that sound, she went into the neighbor’s backyard. Every time she’d say my name (I was going by ‘Kitty’ at the time), I would holler back to her. She kept getting closer and closer to where I was, but she hadn’t quite found me yet. I could see that she was thinking that I might have somehow gotten trapped inside the neighbor’s shed ’cause I saw her looking in that direction, so I hollered even louder and then FINALLY she looked UP instead of straight ahead. I was perched about 15 feet over her head in a tree, and waiting impatiently to be brought down. Within seconds, she ran back to her house, got a ladder and reached up and got me. I could have made it tough on her and climbed even higher when she put the ladder against the tree, but to tell you the truth I was getting a little tired of hanging around up there and I was also getting pretty hungry (surprised?). Why I climbed the tree to begin with is for me to know and for her to figure out.
One more story – one day my next door neighbor was cooking and left her kitchen door open to cool things off. I walked into her kitchen (su casa es mi casa – that’s how it goes, right?), entered the living room, went upstairs and took a nap. The neighbor discovered me a while later and put me back outside. She told my new owner about it and they both thought it was very cute. Whatever. I don’t get it.
Ok, I have more, but I’ll end this by telling you that I’m a happy Sit-A-Pet kid, and those pet-sitters they have are one bunch of nice folks. They feed me, they play with me, and with my owner’s permission, they even let me go outside. “Heaven, I’m in heaven… “(forgot to tell you I am a crooner as well).