The Tortie Takes A Man

BY PAUL SANDEL
Imagine Cattery

 

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Ahh, it is that time of year! The chill begins to recede, the sun sets a little later each evening and the girls here begin to call. (Call? Scream? Peel the wallpaper?)

It's about this time each year that my girls decide that love is indeed in the air. I look forward to this change of seasons. Some people spend the winter reading seed catalogues and planning their spring gardens. I spend it perusing pedigrees and deciding which girl should produce the best with which male. 

The girls apparently spent the winter deciding how to drive good old Dad crazy.

A few days ago while I was washing feed dishes and cleaning Porta-Potties, a single, loud meow came from behind me. I recognized the sound easily as a female wanting some lovin'. I jerked around to identify the source from my girls perched on the cat trees. But, as they had planned all winter, they had anticipated my reaction and immediately pretended to be asleep. 

I went back to my work, but my reflexes were now on high alert. As soon as I bent down to begin my poop scoop duties a loud wail came from behind me. Apparently, the part of my brain that controls reflexes and the part that controls my body haven't spoken recently. My reflexes ordered me to turn around IMMEDIATELY. My body responded, then belatedly informed me that there was a shelf just above my head.

I sat down on the ground very hard, but not before I noticed the cats smiling. They may have even been laughing. 

The surest way to get a cat's attention is to ignore it. I went about my duties, cleaning and feeding. That was when I noticed all but one cat was inhaling cat food as if it may become extinct tomorrow. Which is really very silly - if this were to happen they would have no regrets about gnawing on my body for weeks to come. But I waiver from the point. 

While the other cats consumed their breakfast, Jasmine AKA "The Tortie" remained on her perch seemingly uninterested in the carnage occurring on the floor beneath her. Now I've been around cats for awhile and a cat that doesn't want to eat is not a normal cat. I immediately feared that she was not feeling well. I went to her and as I reached for her she let out a quiet meow.

Concerned, I took her in my arms and then I realized the truth... As soon as I had gathered her in my arms she began to peddle her back legs as if she were trying to win an Olympic swimming competition. Had I not held on I believe she would currently be passing Hawaii on her way to Hong Kong.

Setting her down, she responded with one comment..."Mawwwrahhhhh!!!!". Which, according to Google, is the ancient Persian word for "GET ME A MAN!!!!!" After which she used her back legs to remove the carpet from the floor and leave claw marks in the concrete beneath.

I am very intuitive when it comes to my cats, so I thought she might be in heat.

The Tortie gave me another clue when she ripped the doors off both stud rooms. Much to her distress, both males ran wildly around the room exclaiming "Look! A catnip mouse I've never seen!".

At this point I had to call in the chief of cat police, Simone. She gazed around, accessing the situation, and then went around gaining control. Read that as: knocking some heads together. 

Once I had the boys back in their rooms and Simone happy that she had regained control, I went to find my winter journal. I found that I had assigned Allie, our new black male, as the new husband for "The Tortie". I then proceeded to introduce them.

Allie is a wonderful boy, small ears, short body, great eye color. Perfect match for The Tortie. I placed them in a private room with music playing softly. Thirty minutes later I heard a "MeeeOwww" from the room. I later learned that is Persian for "HELP, SHE'S CRAZY!!!!".

Entering the room I found that Allie had found a screwdriver and had used it to loosen the heating duct in order to hide inside. Meanwhile, "The Tortie" had heard a call from the wild. In the bedroom down the hall was our lone Cornish Rex. It was love at first "Mawwwrahhhhh".

I've changed all the locks, but I don't hold out much hope.   

More articles following the (mis) adventures of the author and his recalcitrant tortoiseshell Persian include:

 

About The Author:

Paul Sandel caught the cat show bug in 1973 at a young age. Shortly after that he saw a Black Smoke Persian at a show and was hooked. He states, "I was so excited when I finally purchased my first smoke, I felt the urge to lie back against the headboard and have a cigarette. Unfortunately, I was only 13."

Paul stayed with the fancy into adulthood, eventually becoming an ACFA judge. He was forced to retire from cats to care for his mother when she became ill with Alzheimer’s disease.

Late last year, Paul was able to return to the show hall and is currently working on rebuilding the Smoke Persian breeding program of Imagine cattery. He remains under 24 hour psychiatric monitoring.

Editor's Note: The Tortie Saga is a work in progress. It records Paul's experiences with a tortoiseshell Persian he purchased...

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