#33 | #41 | #65

#65 SO YOU "TINK" YOU KNOW WHAT LOVE IS? "TINK" AGAIN

I think I am in love. I am not sure but I think so.  The object of my affection is FOR SURE in love with me. I found a very special new friend; meet Tink. Tink is only about two pounds so I am four times her size and Dolly is about 15 times her size. But she is ever so cute!  She hops and my Moms said she looks like a prairie dog when she stands up on her back haunches.  Unlike me who was born with all of my legs, she was born that way.

In January Mom lectured at UCSD in San Diego and Tink’s mom was in the audience. Afterwards Tink’s mom introduced herself and shared picture of Tink. When mom returned home she shared the pictures with me and I fell in love. I asked my Mom if we could invite Tink and her parents over for dinner and Mom said YES!

When Tink and her parents came to dinner I was so excited. I quickly went up to greet her; we touched noses and sniffed each other. Tink bounced all around the house trying to find me.  I would come out, peek out, crawl in her carrier, flit my tail at her and she just seemed to love it.  We had such a good time.  Tink liked my Christmas present of the red and white curly toy so I gave it to her.  I think she will get her back legs stronger and stronger trying to play with it.

I already am getting ready for some play dates to pursue this relationship. I like Dolly but Tink, she makes my heart go pitter patter. She is an inspiration that shows even me that it is not our misfortunes that define us. Her spunk and cuteness, determination and pep will make her a huge winner in the world.  Watch out, there may be a new love story emerging, the unlikely romance between a two-legged dog and a three-legged cat.

 

#33 PUSSY WILLOWS

Dr. Mom is a really good flower arranger. She makes many beautiful arrangements that I have lots of fun with in the night. She plays with the flowers during the day and I play with them at night. It seemed to me that each of us was doing our own creative thing.

Mom uses little white flowers and purple and pink ones and they are really fun to bat around. Both my moms seem to groan when they come in the kitchen and see my night’s handiwork. Their expressions about my creativity are underwhelming. I thought they would both be really impressed with my ability to arrange things. That seems to not be the case. (Although I do catch a smile beneath the groan when mom Cathy says to Dr. Mom, look what YOUR cat did) I am getting the feeling that there is only room for one flower arranger in our house, and that isn’t me. I have been trying to find other ways to amuse myself at night until last night.

Mom made this really wonderful arrangement with very tall red things that she calls ginger and then there were some tall stalks and you won’t believe it, but they are called PUSSYWILLOWS. I wasn’t at all sure what willows meant but I was pretty darn sure that I was a pussycat so I thought this time, for sure, she had gotten something for me. I rubbed against it and it was soft, just like my fur. I had an awful fleeting wondering about what little pussycats these were made of. I did not like to think about that so I decided to climb up and take a look. After all, if there were something with your name on it wouldn’t you think that you certainly would have sleeping, climbing or eating rights to that? Whatever this stalk was, it looked like my fur, it felt like my fur for all I knew if I climbed it the little furry things might meow for me or start to play.

I explored. I climbed. I got squirted. In my mountain home nobody ever squirted me when I batted the flowers or leaves around. I don’t think I quite understand why flowers that are supposed to be outside are inside and when they are inside why I have to treat them differently then when they are outside. This human world has so many rules that on make no sense to me. Maybe when I grow up a bit I will get it, but right now it is a mystery.

Guess I will go play with something that is called a cat toy, although I could have had a lot of fun with those pusseywillows. I may have to go see them again when my moms go to sleep.

#41 - THE AVIATOR OR HENRY BARYSHNI-CAT

I try to be a good boy most of the time and I attempt to not frighten my moms, as they are older people. I never hiss, spit, bite or claw Dolly even though she sorely tests my patience at times. I do go on wild runs for at least an hour a day and everybody gets out of my way.

We have a neighbor across the street that had never met me. Mom brought me to the door to meet him, I was being held firmly (translate squeezed tightly) so as to be presented at the door. The man’s wife had something on a leash that looked to me like a fox I had seen in my mountain home. I have later learned it is something called a Welsh corgi dog. I looked down from my squished perch against my mother’s chest and just knew it was BIG TROUBLE. No time for any warning, no time to give that animal time to get a look at me, there was no time for anything but ACTION! I hissed loudly, then screamed and flew from the front door all the way to the kitchen. It was quite a flight, fueled by sheer adrenalin. I didn’t exactly have time to see where it was I was flying, no time for an advance ticket. I assumed that wherever it was it would be better than anywhere near that orange looking animal. I came down for a hard landing, thump, but quickly scampered out of sight. My heart was pounding but I guess nowhere near as much as my mom’s heart. They came running after me to see if I was okay. I was a bit shaken up but I was fine. I heard them wonder out loud about whether or not I might have lost a front leg in some foolish stunt like that. I honestly don’t remember what happened to me in my accident of fate that brought me to my home. Maybe I will be up for an Oscar for my aviation skills. I must be at least as good as that guy in the movies.

I must say, although I don’t like being frightened, I do rather like flying. It makes a guy like me forget I have any handicap. It is a level playing field when you are in the air. If there are no paws on the ground, it hardly matters if you have three or four. I saw on a big screen in the bedroom some people flying through the air; I think I heard my moms call it ballet. I think I may become a ballet dancer when I grow up, I do like being airborne.

I have to go practice my leaps now, do have a nice day.

Your friend,

Henry jm