Fuzzy Tortoiseshell Calico Cats, Reputations and Contentment

Last week I had stopped to get a couple of tires replaced. (You just have to worry about the quality of things when a set of trailer tires go bad after sitting for just a decade or so.) While I was waiting I heard a kitten. Now, once upon a time I was a sucker for lost and misplaced animals. Now I am older and wiser.

We currently have one dog and one cat. The cat, Helix F. Montemayer, is selfish self-centered, aloof egocentric egotistical self-absorbed self-indulgent egocentric egotistical self-absorbed self-indulgent… in short he is a cat. The important thing is he is not my cat. A friend of the daughter’s gave him to her after she had ended a relationship. For all of the cat’s flaws he was an improvement over the guy she culled. In fact a dead cat would have been an improvement – road kill would have been an improvement – really old road kill.

Several years later she moved out and left the cat. Now she has a husband, two brats and a cat but Helix is still with me.

In any case, last week I heard a kitten. I checked it out to make sure nothing was wrong. Well, there was something wrong. The kitten was a fuzzy tortoiseshell calico. My relationship with fuzzy tortoiseshell calico cats goes back 50 years. My first personal cat was a fuzzy tortoiseshell calico. She was a wild barn cat that hated all dogs, all humans and most of creation in general.

I trapped her, kept her in a pen for a few months until she decided not to kill me and then took her home. I did the “she followed me home can I keep her” and it worked. Since then I have had probably a dozen fuzzy tortoiseshell calico cats. In fact the only cats I have ever had were either fuzzy tortoiseshell calico or bob-tailed. I can’t resist either.

So, I went home and told my bride Management about the cat. She responded, “Did you bring her home now or are you going back to get her?” By the way, all calico cats are she. Occasionally there is a calico with male cat equipment but they are sterile.

Later I was talking with my sibling. I told him about the cat. “Did you steal her or did they give her to you?” he asked. This almost sounds like I am getting predictable.

I’ve found only one flaw in this cat. The perfect cat hates everyone but me. This cat has apparently sorted out the hierarchy in this house and has been buttering up Management. On a positive note if she becomes Management’s cat then I still have room for one of my own when suitable cat (ie: tortoiseshell or bob-tail) shows up.

If you happen to hear any new ugly rumors about me this week they aren’t true. It is true that my little van spent the night parked at a local motel. I had loaned Slight Si to a guy whose car had broken down and he was staying in the motel.

Think about it. I may be stupid and I may do some strange things but do you really think I am stupid enough to park one of my easily identifiable vehicles somewhere I shouldn’t be? In fact, there are several locations where I wouldn’t stop at night because someone might see my truck and think I am visiting someone I shouldn’t. There are several homes where, shall we say, inappropriate activities occur.

There is at least one location where if my little truck broke down in front of the house I wouldn’t even leave it while I went for help. In fact, I’d set it on fire so the Fire Department would be there to testify on my behalf.

I’m not even talking about Management. She’s not worried. She knows I’m harmless and she trusts me except when I am planning a project. I just have enough pride in myself to not want anyone to have any reason to wonder if I’m downgrading my relationship with Management.

After all, all a man needs to be happy is one good woman. Well, one good woman and a truck-and a dog, and a fuzzy cat and a couple of dozen projects, and a gun or two, and a couple of thousand books, and some grand-brats, and a cup of coffee.