How I Came to Have The Feline Overlord
I was making Belgium waffles one morning. I had just started kneading the dough and I was doing it by hand because I didn’t have my magical Kitchen Aid at that time. Yes, I was wrist-deep in raw dough. The kitchen and I were covered with flour (cuz that the way it is when I bake something). Then, at the kitchen window,
Not a soft, sad cry. Not a sweet little kitten hello. Nope. This was a Demand.
But I couldn’t stop and deal with that cat. I had to finish kneading the dough.
The kneading took a while because I’m not good at it (and thus the purchase of a Kitchen Aid).
Once it was done I still couldn’t deal with the cat. I had to put the dough in its warmed up bowl to rise and then I had to clean all the stuck-on dough bits off myself.
That all took maybe 20 minutes and this wretched cat sat at my window and yelled at me the WHOLE time. So once I was able to, I threw open the kitchen door and screamed “What?!” The cat jumped off the window sill and walked between my legs and into my house.
Huh. I wasn’t expecting that.
I closed the door before any other creatures gained entry and went to go find that cat. I expected it to be hiding somewhere. Oh no. It was calmly and slowly wandering around, giving all of my possessions a good sniff. And it was filthy. Skinny and tinny and filthy.
Later that evening I gave her a bath and discovered not only her gender but that she had been recently spayed. The sutures from that surgery were still in and they had become very infected. Every time she moved, green puss oozed out of her incision. She had a high fever and couldn’t hold down food. (Yes we went to the vet the very next day.)
But I swear you would have never known that from looking at her. The filth, the starvation, the raging infection had no visible impact on her. She just went leisurely from room to room giving everything I owned the Royal Inspection. I was following, in little shuffling steps, trying to toughen up enough to scoop the cat up and through it back outside. Then she paused and looked at me over her shoulder. Her expression said “Okay. This will do.”
And that’s how I got my Feline Overlord. She decided to live with me. I caved and agreed. I’ve been caving and agreeing ever since.
I don’t have a picture of her from when she first walked through my door. I do have a picture from right after her first bath (and boy, howdy was that an experience).
I didn’t have a good camera back then. I didn’t have a very clean house either. I was married at the time and didn’t have many good things and that’s all I’m going to say about that.
But I did have her. And things have gotten much better since then.
So. My mom says that I should just tell ya’ll the cats’ real names. Now see, I wasn’t gonna do that. They are the super
villains heroes of The Roving Crafters and super villains heroes should have their true identities protected. But she’s my mom. So just this once I’ll tell ya.
Anti-Spinning Feline Overlord and her sidekick The Cowardly and Disappearing Boy Cat are Bodacious and Ditto. She is named after Bodacious the rodeo bull, the rankest, baddest bull ever. He got his name because he does what ever Bodacious does.
Bodacious and Ditto. But don’t tell anyone who they really are. They have important jobs to do, like stalking everything that comes for the bird food.
"There is no failure. Only feedback." - Robert Allen
8 Comments on "I Had No Say in The Matter"
Bodacious — I thought you meant to name her for Boudicca, one totally awesome Queen of the Britons who really gave the Romans a hard time ;-). However, I don’t know any rodeo bulls as I am a closet Classicist. Veni – Vidi – Vici She came – She saw – She conquered! (I know it’s the wrong tense).
Well she could probably have pulled off both roles. But I was feeling sentimental. Bodacious was widely feared and admired in Texas and the hero of my hometown high school (yes really). For me as a kid, the two most awesome and most evil bad guys were Darth Vader and Bodacious. I did consider naming her Vader…
Lol. She probably could have pulled that off too.
So awesome and well loved! Pwca was found (by my Aunt) under a bush in the Hispanic disctrict of Chicago. She was dumped at 3 weeks old, and we think it was because she is a pure black cat (though we don;t really know). Now she is 13 years old and rules the roost (or more likely my shoulder, knitting, or embroidery).
Some cats have indomitable spirits. I think that’s why we love them and why they get away with pretty much everything. I’m so glad she has you to rule over.
Too cute! Seriously, how would we manage without cats to supervise our work?
We would probably be much more productive but terribly bored. As I type this out, mine is trying to open my chest of draws so she can get to my underwear. That’s a new thing for her and I’m sure she is doing just to distract me.
I’m surprised she tolerates having another cat in the house. The cat who owns me will not permit any competition for my attention/affection…and I so want an orange kitten, but I’m sure he would harm or possibly kill it at first sight. Don’ ask me how I know that!
Ah well. She is mostly just arrogant but not mean. Plus females don’t kill the new kittens as often as older males do. I can see why you would be concerned.
My old Queen treats Boy-kitty like he is scum and he worships her. I mostly stay out of it!