No, I am not talking about Don in this blog, nor am I talking about myself. So who is it in this family who might have the urge to roam? I am talking about Frank the cat, the best cat in the world.
I am sure if you have a cat, or have a friendship with a cat, you might disagree with that last statement. And I am certainlly looking at Frank from my personal point of view. But he IS a darned good cat. He is quite handsome , I think, looking a lot like Morris, only with a few spots on his nose. But they just add a dash of charm. He is a low investmemt, high dividend kind of cat. He eats just a little, uses the litter box just a little (and is very neat about it), and requires very little in care and maintenance.
Let me give you a little bio about this paradox of cat virtue. He and his sister were born on our porch at our lake place on Lake Freeman. They were born behind the electrical meter box on our deck one fine July day at the same time I was entertaining ladies with a lunch on the deck.
Thankfully, they remained out of sight until the party was over.
Their mama was a tiny semi-wild cat barely out of kittenhood herself. It was her first litter, and she was a bit overwhelmed.
We came and went during the rest of the summer, and she moved the babies around to various spots in our park. One week we found them in a old truck tire sweating it out in the sun. But she always brought them back to our porch on the days we were there each week. I think she chose us, in all her kitty wisdom, to be their adopted parents. They took to us right away, Frank especially. He would snuggle up under my chin and purr madly. That is still his favorite spot, even as big and old as he is now. So when summer ended and the park closed in October, we couldn't stand the thought of leaving them there to try and survive through the winter. So we brought them home, and they became ours forever.
Now, I said Frank was handsome, but Johnny was the beauty. She was a calico with black, dark orange, and white spots. Her fur was thick and glossy. She never had the personality that Frank has, but she was very sweet. Unfortunately, she developed diabetes and died at age eight. But Frank lives on, and is now thirteen.
To tell you the truth, Frank really doesn't do any tricks, he isn't very playful, he is great at taking naps, and he loves to sit on laps and get lots of petting. Like I said: low maintenance, quiet, lazy, a perfect old pet for old folks like us. He loves to survey his kingdom from the screened in porch, showing absolutely no interest in the occasional dog that visits the yard, and very little interest in all the birds. So how do I know, or how can I say that Frank has the urge to roam?
Well, Frank has one and only one trick that he performs: if Don gets out the atlas to consider a trip, Frank simply has to sit on the atlas or lie down on the pages. If Don is at his desk, Frank sits on the atlas at the desk. If Don is on the bed, Frank lies down on the atlas on the bed. If Don opens the atlas and puts it on the floor, now that is heaven. Frank stretches out over two pages of maps! Not only that, but he takes his paw and turns the pages until he finds his favorite state, evidently the place he wants to visit.
I don't know, but yesterday he chose Wisconsin. Sounds good to me. I'm a bit concerned, though. He gets a bit upset just riding to the vet's office that is one mile away. Although he loves the vet's office, and he loves the vet once he gets there.
I think we will have to think twice before taking him traveling. After all, he might miss the two dozen or so napping spots at home.
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