I get requests from people asking me about Pumpkin and I’ve been thinking about blogging her so I’ll give it a shot.
My family has always felt most complete with a dog and a cat in the house. I don’t have the financial resources to help people significantly but I can give a dog or two and a cat lives of kings.
Mork, our last cat, a Silver Persian, was dumb as a stump but he loved to hunt. I’m pretty sure the hunter turned into the hunted and he was eaten by the coyotes that are plentiful around here. So we were catless for a while.
My wife and I kept seeing two feral cats in the scrub at the top of the hull above the beach. One was a tough looking black and white cat with half a tail. The other was a pretty calico cat. We’d see them darting in and out of the bushes from time to time. Jill told me she wanted to capture the calico and bring it home. I said over my dead body. I did not want another cat. I was still mourning Mork.
So there I was, relaxing watching TV one night, the night before Halloween, when in came Jill. I heard her say, “Look what I brought home.” There was the calico cat in her arms. She had lured it over to her with some food, grabbed it and brought it home. I was pissed. I did not want to go through the cat as coyote food thing again. “Get that damn cat out of here now!” “No.”
She put the cat down and in about two minutes the cat had jumped up into my lap, crawled up onto my chest with her face just below my chin. There she sat, purring and drooling while I stroked her. “This is someone’s cat.” I said.” It’s too comfortable around people to be a real feral cat.” We fed the cat, liverwurst and some scraps. It ate everything. When we went to bed the cat climbed up onto the bed and settled down on my pillow right behind my head. Around 2am I woke up and asked Jill, “Where’s the cat?” “She just jumped out the window,” a second floor window, but I think she jumped onto the glass roof over our swimming pool below. “Oh well, she’s a feral cat. She’s rested and well fed and now she’s back to the woods to do feral things.” I was disappointed but I didn’t say anything.
The next morning I came downstairs and there at the glass French doors sat the cat looking in. “Let’s call her Pumpkin.” I made a sign and posted it at the top of the hill but nobody called about the cat so we took her to the vet to be checked out. She was healthy and already neutered and after paying $140 she was ours and she made herself right at home.
She is the most amazing pet I have ever owned. She is incredibly sensitive to our moods and she can be very comforting when you need it the most. When I was sick for a few months the cat would crawl up onto my chest and just make me feel better. She knew when I was down. She gets along with Freda just great and she even puts up with Ruby the puppy. Ruby sniffs Pumpkins butt and Pumpkin punches Ruby in the nose. I sit up and wait for her at night because there is no way I am leaving her out all night. Luckily she comes in between 9pm and 10pm usually. A few times I have left the door wedged open slightly so she could get in and I have gone to bed, worrying. But she is always there in the morning. She dines on expensive cat chow and Ahi tuna steaks that I buy frozen, thaw in pieces and cut up for her. She likes tuna. She likes to sleep on my head. We call it the”cat hat”. She is a hunter and brings all kinds of critters into the house, dead, half dead and sometimes still alive. She can leap into the air and snag a hummingbird right out of the sky. Jill hates that. Me too but hell, she’s a cat. She catches bats and leaves them dead on the kitchen floor for me to find in the morning. She likes to go for walks. When I take the two dogs for a walk Pumpkin tags along bringing up the rear. It’s cute as hell. And the good news is that with the beach right outside the door we live next to the world’s biggest cat box and that’s where she goes. I know I am too emotionally invested in this cat but that’s just the way I am built.
So that’s my cat.
This article was syndicated from YACHT DESIGN