A Life of Servitude

After reading atleasthaveafrigginglass’ post https://atleastihaveafrigginglass.com/2022/03/10/training-myrtle/ about his cat, Myrtle, training him to do her bidding, I was quite gratified to realize that my cats are actually rather benevolent dictators. Unlike Myrtle, my feline overlords are reasonable in their demands and not too severe in meting out punishment.

Shola Ebola is our little sweetheart who sneaks into your lap before you realize you’ve been pinned to your chair. Any attempt to dislodge her is like moving a dead animal. She simply goes limp and gives you a look that says, “I’m quite comfortable right here, thank you.” She came from the neighbors, in heat, and refused to go home after we had her spayed.

Ava Braun is the take-no-prisoners, suffer-no-fools, female Hitler. The dogs are wary of her and the cats show due respect. We pet her cautiously when she demands it, watching carefully for that twitch of displeasure that says a bite will follow. Her elderly staff had died and we took her in when the surviving children threatened to euthanize her. Arriving at her new home, she stepped out of the carrier and was immediately in charge. There was none of the typical cowering under furniture or showing deference to the cats already in residence. She had witnessed her litter mates being devoured by coyotes and watched her beloved benefactor wither and die. Life held no terrors for her.

Jet Lee, our only male, tolerates the females, avoids the dogs, and shows up at meal time, which is about twenty times a day. He demands the costliest of manufactured cat foods, tries to bury the homemade chicken and liver pate that I make for the girls, and will only eat when his bowl is placed in the proper place. His name came from his youthful antics but he’s long since outgrown the moniker.

And last to join our crew is Cholla, so named for the jumping cactus she resembled. This cheeky kitten trotted out of the brush and joined our pack when she was about six weeks old. Too confident and inquisitive for her own good, she is the only one who is not allowed to go outside without a chaperone. Even with supervision, she went over the fence into the neighbor’s dog run. She believes she’s a dog but I doubt the dogs would have recognized her as such. Another time she escaped and came home with one of Mike’s beloved finches in her mouth. That went over like the proverbial turd in a punch bowl.

All things considered, the dogs are easier to please: they eat whatever is put into their bowls; they are happy to stay inside and happy to go out; they eagerly jump into the car even when I tell them we’re going to the vet; they go outside to do their business, though they don’t bury it. We’re working on that last bit. So far they have the hole digging down pat but they haven’t figured out the most important part of the operation.