Glenn
Wallace, the cat is a pretty amazing cat, although it must be said,
he's actually pretty ridiculous most of the time. He's scary-smart.
My better half named him after my late father, who was himself a
pretty amazing, and scary-smart man, and also had his ridiculous
moments. Glenn came to us in a rather startling way; we live out in
the country on a corner parcel. There's just a lonely water tower and
not much else around. Part of the land is abutted by forest and
that's where Ripley the yodeling dog's imaginary pals live.
I
spend most of the day ensconced in a house that is very secure and
because of the day and the age, I am very aware of what's going on
around me. It's quiet and Ripley will bark if people show up, so
we're pretty safe. However, someone managed to sneak a
black-and-white tuxedo kitten into our front door, between the screen
door and the front door and there he stayed for a full ten hours,
while James was at work. Now, the kitten may have wandered in there
and gotten caught, I don't know. All that I do know, is when James
came home, he said “Mary, how did the cat get out?”, when he
opened the door. He was holding a black-and-white tuxedo kitten. I
had not been out all day; hadn't opened the door. Our two
chuckleheads were inside, busily dismantling the bedroom.
This is what Glenn looked like his first night with us. James was calling him "Kitler" from an old website from the 00s, that featured kittens with Hitler mustaches, that I had remembered. I was like, "Erm, no."
I
pointed behind me to the two hoodlums and said, “I haven't opened
the door all day; haven't been out! Look, here are our two goons!”
I thought to myself “That trickster. James; he's just looking for a
way to sneak another
kitten into this household. Ha ha!” And he was looking at me like,
“Mary, she's such a card! Looking for a way to get another new
kitten in this house!”
Glenn, as he looks now. Don't let the beauty fool you; he's thinking of either his next meal, or what kinda shenanigans he can get into next. His favorite thing is to run rampant under my kitchen cabinets. I've told him that's Chthulu's timeshare, but Glenn doesn't care, much as my father wouldn't have cared.
James
came all the way into the house with the new kitten. We could see that he (we
checked that out right away, and he was an un-neutered male) was distressed; hot, dehydrated, hungry and rather skinny. He was about the same size as our
two kittens. This was in October, so he was about six months old. Our
kittens were both inoculated and up-to-date on their vaccinations, so he couldn't make them sick.
The first thing we did was call the shelter for the county we now
live in. They had no room for a kitten and the earliest they could
neuter the kitten was in December. I didn't like that they had no
room, and this wasn't a “no kill” shelter, so we decided to keep
him.
James
bathed him. This wasn't like the epic baths that my father used to
give our cat, Oliver, when Oliver rolled in motor oil. My dad would
lock them both in the bathroom and the yowling, screeching, and
tearing of shower curtains and crashing around would commence. They'd
both exit the bathroom, licking their wounds and treated bath time as
some type of blood sport. The pair had an on-going feud? game? for
ages, which my mom and I both enjoyed.
Eddifer and Glenn draped over, sleeping on the corner of my bed. Glenn looks like Superman or something here. I gave up trying to make the bed, because they all run around under the sheets, like a bunch of worms. Honestly.
Anyway,
after Glenn's bath, we introduced Allie and Eddie to Glenn. We still
hadn't picked out a name for him. We didn't have a feel for his
personality. He was fine with the other cats, but was really, really
hungry, so we fed him.
And,
continued to feed him. About this time, I noticed that my hamburger
buns on top of the microwave had a gnawed corner, in the bag and one
of the buns had had some tiny bites taken out of it. I thought we had
mice and since none of the kittens had really had mothers to teach
them to hunt, I assumed that a tiny intruder was in my kitchen.
That
week, when we went to the grocery store and I brought home a fresh
loaf of bread, Glenn – who'd earned his name by doing something
asinine that amused James, who while laughing, said “I'm gonna name
this kitten after your Dad!”, and I, of course, being in on the
entire ridiculousness of the situation, said, “Please do!” –
saw this fresh loaf of bread and took a tiny, kitten-sized chomp
squarely out of the middle of it as I watched, and I realized who
the “mouse” in the house really was. I took the old loaf's sleeve
and the piece Glenn had tried to eat, gave Glenn the chomped piece of bread, put the old sleeve on the new bread, took the new sleeve with the chomp in it, tossed it in the garbage and put all of
the bread either in the microwave or the fridge, for
safe-keeping. I give him the heels and now, Eddifer's in on this
game of playing with/eating pieces of stale bread, when I make
sandwiches. I don't give them much; just a bit to play with, and then
eat. They're supposed to be carnivores, after all.
I know this is blurry; a testament to my fine picture-taking and my essential tremor, but this is the saddest pair of eyes I've ever seen. Poor Glenn! He only had to wear the cone for about 48 hours, but it was an eternity in terms of the Drama that unfolded in his mind, I'm sure!
Glenn
is also the longest cat I've ever seen; long legs, tail and whiskers.
He's almost four feet long when he stretches out on the floor and
he's not fully grown yet. Like he's part Cheetah, and he gallops
around the house like a little horsey. I think he revels in the sound
his feet make on the hardwood floor. All he needs are little horsey
shoesies.
He's
also the one who goes in for all the weird, odd, and animated toys
that James brings home. Glenn will be right on those crazy things and
play with them for hours. He knows his name and will heel to hand
commands, too. I've only had to tell him once and it's embedded in
his little cat brain. Of all the cats, he's most bonded with me, with
Misty being a close second. They are the two smartest, but I worry
about Eddifer. Sometimes he gets lost in the scrum of life and will
go off by himself. I make sure Eddie gets plenty of love. Allie is
James' cat and she loves him to death. I'm an okay substitute, but
there's no doubting who she loves best.
See what I mean about Drama? Allie is asleep all calm and Glenn is like, "I'M READY FOR MY CLOSE-UP, MR. DEMILLE!"
Ripley
just kind of watches it all, bemused and the birds just add to the
general life and noise around here. It's a happy house, with the animals,
people and the music. We feel blessed. I hope everyone is having a
great #atozchallenge!
I
hope you stop by on April 19th,
2020 to meet Andy Toppin, Jr., and learn about his book “Rowan's Chronicle, Volume 1”. He's an awesome person, and a terrific
writer!
