I meow meow’d onto the scene officially Valentine’s Day, circa 2003. Originally, lived with a couple in a two-bedroom apartment in Rancho Cordova, California, called Bishop’s Court. The glory, royal, courtly days and a meows paradise. That’s where it all began and a long line of us were born; the grays that being and way before we had to pay a so-called “pet rent” agreement. Essentially a contract for felines and rule-oriented agreements with strict stipulated protocols, turning a meow from feral too “domesticated”. Aptly a hiss escapes and a tail twitch to recant a tale so furry, so prancy, and so magical to “spell”.
My first foster parents were young and fought often, so much so, I would escape outside and hide in the bushes. Eventually, I returned to the patio to make my way back to my water and boodle bowl, but no one was home. It was winter and cold, and I waited for them to return. Unreasonably and unseasonably wet the start of this year sure was and one Saturday morning a torrential rainstorm pelted the overhang coverings for the rows and rows of mechanical beasts that so many “uprights”, humans, or as you say, “people”, use recklessly today. It’s a few years before I even get the chance to learn how to control one of those things, but believe you meow, as God is my witness, I will rule the meow world.
A new couple rolled up in a silver “thunderbird” and they came running right towards my apartment, hiding under the stairwell as a waterfall cascade pours over all our heads. The “warden” was hurrying to open the door, and ironically, the key didn’t work. This monsoon was not letting up anytime soon and haven’t seen the likes of one since. This couple was different. They were laughing and thought it was funny. They tried to pet me, and I rolled out all my famous party tricks. Roll over vigorously and sweetly meow, and just as they initiate physical contact, I ran off.
This occurred for a few weeks, and every time they tried to touch me, feed me, look at me, I ran off. The tall man said, “she’s really cute and sweet, doesn’t look like a stray (Whatever that means).” The lady said, “if she would just let me reach her, I can bring her inside from the cold.” “Oh, she has huge alien green eyes!”
The tall man asked if I was hungry and tried to allow me to sniff his hand. What’s that smell, I wondered. I couldn’t deny, something smelled so delicious that I couldn’t resist. With all my courage mustered in maybe 3 pounds and curiosity abound with one gray toe in toe, I paw pawed my way right through the opened front door.
All four paws meow firmly placed in the entryway, and I couldn’t believe my alien green eyes, either. This was a meows gangsta’s paradise. Purple plush velvet couches and a chair with matching ottoman, perfect for a kitten just like me. The snuggest looking blanket you ever did see. There was a jungle gym they called a kitchen table, that I loved to position myself hiding in one of the chairs, and paw through the rings of the back of the chair at anyone who dares cross my path.
Let everyone know, who’s dominant is this meow’s motto. This was good practice for cometh later days, when I performed Shakespeare’s, Romeo and Juliet from a two-story town home balcony. “Verona, Italy is the location where Shakespeare’s famous lovers Romeo and Juliet lived.” “The city will receive about 1,000 letters from people that are addressed to Juliet this Valentine’s Day.” So pawtastic!
Just then, the tall man looked surprised and happy to see me. He opened a door to a dark scary looking inferno, but the most exquisite aromas escaped. He said, “It’s Valentine’s Day would you like to be our Valentine?” He placed huge mittens over his mittens and pulled out a steamy dish called manicotti. Understandably, we faced a language barrier initially. I could understand them, but they needed some time to adjust to the learning curve. They are only human!
Thanks to Wikipedia and years savoring this scrumptious, delectable, “cheesy,” goodness: “Manicotti, literally means, “little sleeves”, is an Italian American form of pasta. Manicottis are very large pasta tubes, usually ridged, that are intended to be stuffed and baked. The filling is generally ricotta cheese mixed with cooked chopped spinach, fresh onion, and herbs.” It is irresistible and I have been known to go berserk for the perfumed scent called asiago cheese.
I was letting them know how good everything smelled and asking for the recipe, when the nice man said, “You look like a Sofia.” The lady started laughing and said, “Sofia Loren?” They oohed and awed, and fawned over me and told me I must be Italian. Apparently, I engage for a spicy meatball, or I am a spicy meatball; I’m fine with both.
I found out that I’m not the first Sofia, but a beautiful and glamourous dramatic actress holds the namesake, the other a popular cartoon, and somewhere under the covers I lie in waiting to pounce on you. I’ve seen a few of her movies with me mum (the grabby lady, I spoke of earlier). My favorite being grumpy old men; I can relate and love fishing and fish. However, I should clarify, Ice Age is still the most entertaining movie and Ray Ramono’s voice is so soothing and lulling for a gray. My favorite song is by Ace of Base, called It’s a Beautiful Life and my favorite toy is Baby a pink bunny.
I also have an arch nemesis called the black bunny, ironically a neighbor for whom I’m supposed to love allows his rabbit to play in the backyard. I do not “play” well with others and have ruined every “playdate” my parents tried to arrange. No kitten was too cute for me not too slap or hiss at, and my dad was appalled at my behavior. Secretly he felt the same, so we had an inside joke between the two of us and a bond greater than time itself.
Dad loathes critters that flutter, and I jumped at any chance to “great white” a moth, or grasshopper, or the boxing champs called Praying Mantis. Oh, he was praying! Taught that David that this Goliath was out of his league. I was large and in charge. Probably should explain a little of my heritage. I’m actually not Italian, although I truly identify with the lifestyle. I’m definitely a mixed bag of greys.
There’s the “charming and sophisticated Chartreux from France dating back to the 18th century. These stealthy and impressive felines chased vermin from the monasteries of the Carthusian order and is one of those cats who will sneak up when you least expect it and disappear like a ninja the moment you turn your back.”
And as the meow world did turn; I was accused of such false accusations before, but not saying these wonderful qualities aren’t displayed among this purrfect DNA. Just the facts got skewed, not saying I wasn’t the ninja referenced. Oh, and just so you know, I love the water! I don’t shirk from a good splash in the garden or beath the tub, in fact always thought balancing on my mum’s knees in the tub was clean fun. If you can “read” expressions, her’s not so much.
“In Thailand, where they’re known as Si-Sawat, the Korats are considered beyond lucky, and they’re often given as gifts to brides.” “Not only do their emerald-green eyes associate with prosperity and fertility, this friendly and loyal cat symbolizes an unbreakable bond.” All of this is true, except I cannot be leashed. Never going to happen, I can bet your last bottom dollar. Nothing should try and reign or try and contain this force to be reckoned with. Not confined, stifled, or putting “this” baby in the corner.
Only for medical reasons, specifically the average lifespan of spayed and neutered cats and dogs is demonstrably longer than the lifespan of those not. That should be enough on that subject for today, this is a post about love for crying out loudly in the hallway. The acoustics are really great in the laundry room too, if you need better range and looking for those high notes to belt out. I do have many years as an animal rights advocate and could cough up some statistics that are worse than claws on a chalk board or shredding your mum’s very expensive tailored designer curtains.
“This dapper little bloke had a life of fish and chips (sounds pretty tasty) in Victorian England as a show cat, inspirer of nursery rhymes and beloved house pet.” “Dinah from Alice in Wonderland may well have been a British shorthair.” I even heard rumors that they were spies for the British government. Absolutely, my great times a millionth MawMaw Meow, and exactly where I inherited my love for English mysteries, garden’s, squirrels, and theatre. Pretty sure I also descended from the Cheshire cat. Mum wanted to name me mischief, for some reason or other, or over there, maybe here. So, why did I come in here? Let’s continue our chat by the chase lounge. I’m very good at deflection or distraction or distortion; one of those words applies. Nothing to spat over.
There are no coincidences and arriving on such an important date as Valentine’s Day was serendipitous or superstitious, again, one of those words; but I do know tuna sensations are super delicious and my mum believes me to be as smart as a 5- or 6-year-old (human) and just as rambunctious, apparently. However, I digress, I stand firmly upon 4 paws with conviction that animals are smart and have a huge capacity for “learning”, healing, inspiring, protecting, loving, caring, and most assuredly entertaining.
My me meow song then … all through the day I, me meow, I me meow and meowed my way onto myspace and was one of the first accounts fully dedicated to my likes (fancy feast, running over sleeping heads, and long sunny naps, singing, spazzing, and acting of course), interests included bird watching, bird calling, unloading the groceries, analyzing all pertinent data onto the floor, folding, photography, fishing, modeling, ambassador of ancient wisdom, and creator of everything meowly. I’ve been the muse for countless music playlists, explorations, stories, adventures, and dreams. Still coming true.
As for dog is man’s best friend, we have today a first kitty in the white house. I try to stay out of pawlotics, but love is love. It is purrfect love, adoration reciprocated, either be furry, funny, fluffy, or a feline. Or, human, slick, named rick and everything in between. Flight or the night owls (look for the dove instead), birds of prey, and love pairs of every color and variety. Two or three eyes, and I’ve seen an obscene amount more beloved, believed, and some even retrieved. “Some may believe that birds have nothing to do with romance, but in fact, legend has it that if a woman spots a winged creature on February 14, it will predict the type of man she will marry.” Heads Up!
Red roses obviously mean deeper love, sniffing tails, and hours in front of the mirror admiring oneself, but make sure your better half stays out of trouble. Hairball medicine for you, avoid: True lilies and daylilies, Daffodils, Hyacinths, Kalanchoe, Azalea, Hydrangeas, Tulips, Oleander, Lily of the valley, Chrysanthemums and I’ve heard poinsettias are a deadly yack attack. Roses might leave a kitty with runny stool. So, eew! Can’t have chocolate so don’t even bother, but a feathered toy, par to none other. A plate of tuna is always a purrfect choice for cuisine dedicated to the day of love. If you can spare some time, Valentine, a lap is divine!
In my hundred years plus meowing in this realm, there’s not much I haven’t contributed too. I’m super nosey. Helped my dad work payroll for the Kings in Sacramento, and no doubt they were giants. The giants have magnanimous tales, but their loyal steeds, just as out-of-this-world. You should see those numbers in nip! Everyday around 2 to 3 pm the school kids would all race home and many would stop by and say hello from the window. Peeking was a forte, but I kept my eye on a few stragglers who would stop and say hi for a brief moment, let me know how school went.
Raised two human brothers, more like midnight compadres in the wild jungles of Rancho. We slept together, watched endless sci-fi movies, and a few hair-raising flicks, played video games, little homework, ate popcorn and snacks, were I resided under the bed. Mum said, I had to behave well, or I wouldn’t get into a good college, but that is for another day of writing about ancient history, philosophy, music, midterms, aliens, the renaissance, art and architecture, and The Good Lord above and everything below. They were good boys and minded meow well. Both love all God’s creatures. Believe you, meow, both have grown to become titans in their own right. Their stories a blazed to come. Their paths not well lit at first as bright, but with heaven’s guiding light, they’ll fly glory more than might.
Worked closely with local law enforcement because of a break-in (not the last), survived the dentist and her hallucinogenic drugs, where I “tripped” out for days. I suffered with hypothyroidism for years and when they wanted to put me on meds, I was already 16 years old. Most “strays” live at the most 3-4 years, so meow to that!
The rainbow bridge is heaven! I play on the greenest grasses, the skies the bluest of blues, the flowers dance as I parade through. I have endless spazzy fests with family and friends and I haven’t missed a thing. Through prayer and meditation, my parents pop by all the time, and I frolic in the meadows beyond space and time with all God’s critters alike, sing with the birds, and snuggle with me meows on the other side. Tidbit for you, I’m just as busy over here and there’s so much still to do. I’ve always maintained a tight ship. My projects this day are still running tails in people’s faces and mad dashing through the ages for the sages. Set the stages!
Something to a name, you say. Apparently in ancient Greek my name is wisdom. “Originally carrying a meaning of “cleverness, skill”, and shaped the term philosophy as used by Plato.” I heard rumors wisdom has been with God since the beginning, so I’ll stick around. I love a good game of telephone or string, or ball, or back pawing. A good legacy never dies. Who knows? Maybe this Valentine’s Day, you’ll see a pair of huge alien green eyes!
Happy Valentine’s Day furbabies everywhere! This year has been cold, icy, and frosty. We need the snuggest blankets stat and warmth to our hearts. If you haven’t chosen a valentine or are looking for a furever friend, please open your life and mind to another soul of infinite being and love. You’ll need patience, but that’s a virtue and I promise you’ll receive in spades more than you ever knew.
Thank you for visiting with meow today and hope you return for a jaunt through the plethora of yarn, and we get tangled up in the garden of tall tales once again. Till then, I hope you have glorious sunny afternoons with solid, no interrupted naps, heavy petting, nose kisses, and loving moments to carry you through. Spring will spring again, and we’ll have much to explore once more.