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Cat Stories

A Collection from Dazeodrew

By DazeodrewPublished 3 years ago 25 min read
"Good Girl"

I decided to combine a few blog posts about my cats, past and present.


Cats seem to always find a way into my life. I usually say I’m a dog person, but the cats keep coming. For some reason, they like me. If I take a walk around the neighborhood, at least a half dozen cats come running up to me, just knowing that I can’t resist giving them a scratch behind the ears. I have the same effect on dogs and babies, but it’s the cats that have me under some kind of control. I have accepted the fact that I have become a complex cat whisperer.

ME (whispering): Ca-a-a-a-t…

CAT: Meow

I’ve had a few cats through the years, although only a few stood out. There was Munchkin. There was Maynard (not my cat, but my son certainly laid claim…please read my post Herding Bees). We had a diva Calico cat named Pumpkin. Oly, an unintelligent grey tabby who was loveable and endearing because of his ignorance. Then there’s Good Girl, my current cat. I whispered to all of them…

Oly’s greatest adventure came during a rainstorm late at night. I went to the door to let him in for the night and he wasn’t there. I checked a few more times before I got worried. Then I heard a far off yowl when the rain subsided for a bit. I followed the yowl as I walked up the wooded road. About 200 yards away, I heard the yowl off to my left. I had no choice but to climb the embankment and go through the woods. About fifty feet in, I heard the yowl from above my head. There he was, about 10 feet up into the tree, caught in ivy. I could just catch his little face poking out. So I whispered:

ME (once again, whispering): O-o-o-o-l-y…

OLY: Meow

There was no doubt now. He was stuck. Oh, what I didn’t mention was that my left arm was in a sling from dislocating my shoulder. The cat was 10 feet up. I didn’t feel like going back home to get a ladder. So I climbed the ivy, one arm dangling until I could just reach his little nose. Then I reached around his neck and pulled…nope, he was really stuck.

ME: You’re really stuck…

OLY: Meow

Then I saw the twitching tail. What goes in must come out, right? I felt like a dentist as I said my next words:

ME: You’re going to feel some discomfort…


It was a long uncomfortable walk for both of us going back home. Oly kept giving me looks to say he was sorry and I had to keep pulling my shorts out of my butt crack because I was soaked. That was Oly.

On the opposite end of the intelligence spectrum is my current cat, Good Girl. She might be the smartest cat I’ve ever had. Someday I’ll blog about her, but until then, I’ll give you an example of her smartness:

ME: What’s the square root of 144?


See that? I should’ve named her Einstein!


One of our kids came into my life at a later age. He’s my wife’s son and I love him to death. He’s hard-working, built his own successful business, and he’s a great dad. He’s everything you would want in a son.

He bought his family a new home in the neighborhood he grew up in. Of course, the house came unfurnished…except for the current home dweller…a cat. Apparently, the last people who lived there left their cat.

Now the last thing he wanted was a cat. They already had a dog, so they weren’t looking for another pet. Reasonable. What he did when he saw the cat outside was not. The exchange with my wife, his mom, went something like this:

SON: So, I guess the previous people had a cat and left it.

MOM: Where is it now?

SON: In the house.

MOM: How did it get in the house?

SON: I saw it and said, “Here kitty kitty.”

MOM: No!

SON: Well, I couldn’t just leave it.

MOM: You now own a cat.

He does too, kind of. Nobody really “owns” a cat. It’s more like the cat owns them. They’re already on their second litter of kittens and they kept a couple. Now they have multiple owners.

Here’s the thing about cats. Unlike dogs, you can’t own one. A dog will be chosen by the owner. A cat will let you think you chose them, but in reality, if they don’t choose you, all you have is a creature you have to feed and clean up after…and they expect you to do it on their terms. After all, they think they own you.

If dogs and cats could talk, um, I mean people talk, it would go like this:

DOG: Oh! Oh! You’re awake! Oh, I’m just so happy! I’m so happy I might even tinkle a little, just a little, on the floor in front of the bed! Can we go out now? Huh? Huh?

CAT (looking disdainfully at the dog): Moron.

DOG (turning towards the cat in excitement): He’s up! He’s up! He’s…

CAT: Shut up, you moron. I need to be fed.

DOG: Oh! Oh! Do you think he’ll feed us today? It would be so great if he did! He loves us so much!

CAT (rolling her eyes): Of course he’s going to feed us, you moron. That’s what I hired him for.

DOG (blank stare): What?

CAT: Are you really that stupid? I’m going to wait by my bowl.

DOG: Wait for what?

CAT (rolling her eyes again): For our servant to feed us, you moron.

DOG: Oh! Oh! Do you think he’ll feed us today? It would be so great if he did! He loves…

CAT: SHUT UP! Oh, and by the way, I left him a little something in his slippers.

Of course, it’s built into a cat to be mad at you if you don’t do what they want. They will expressively let you know when they are displeased with your performance as a servant, and it usually smells bad enough to gag a gorilla.

Anyway, they now have not only a house full of kids, they have a dog and an assembly of cats. Oh sure, they’re so cute when they’re little. You can pick them up, cuddle them, play with them, laugh at their little bites and clawing, but eventually, they grow. Then they take ownership. The bites aren’t so little anymore and the claws have found a new purpose…furniture.

Now before you think I have something against cats, please note that I didn’t make the dog too bright in this scenario either. In reality, I love almost all animals…except camel spiders…Ewww, pretty gruesome, but most of the rest of the animal kingdom is good with me. Unlike people, animals are true to their nature. Even a dog can’t lie when you say something like, “Did you do this?” Of course, the cat won’t own up to, “Did you do this?” It’s not that they’re lying…they just don’t care what you think they did.

Possible moral of this story? Be very careful how you use the phrase, “Here kitty kitty.” It might just land you a cat. Oh, and if you’re a softy, like almost every human in this story, you might also want to avoid the words, “Oh, it’s a cat.” That’s how I got my cat…


Ha! See what I did there? Cat post… Anyway, my cat doesn’t use a post because she prefers the wicker laundry basket to pull on her claws and since this post is about her, the bad attempt at a joke is invalid. See? I won either way. If you liked the joke, I won. If you didn’t like the joke, it was invalid anyway and thus, I won. So much winning!

My cat, I just call her Good Girl, literally showed up at my doorstep the day after I was diagnosed with stomach cancer. Like I said, however, this post is about my cat, not cancer. Besides, I’ve been all clear for almost a year! Back to the cat…

I used to have my office just outside of my house in what we call “The Shack.” It’s a converted unattached single car garage and very comfortable. It’s shaded and has a sliding glass door, a regular door, and a window, so it always stays cool in the summer heat. When Good Girl showed up at my door, it was an overcast day in March. I had the door shut while I worked, but that didn’t stop the meowing I heard from outside the door. Of course, I went and opened the door, said “Oh, it’s a cat,” and she just sauntered in as if she belonged. I looked around and saw my wife hiding behind the corner of the house, watching to see what I would do. I shut the door and tried to treat the cat like I would any other client I might see in my office…

ME: So, what can I do for you?

CAT: Meow.

ME: I see, well…hey! Do you think it’s a good idea to get on my lap? We just met.

CAT: Meow.

ME: Well, okay then. You are pretty soft.

From that point on, Good Girl and I “were like peas and carrots!” There, my one Forrest Gump reference. Been wanting to use that one for years! Anyway, before you think God magically put the cat at my door, I need you to know that He had helpers. Somebody dropped off a couple of cats at my neighbor’s house. She already had one cat and didn’t like the thought of three. My wife was visiting her when she said this. Walla, now we have a cat.

The dedication to me was immediate. It was like she saw me, sniffed me, and then decided, “You’ll do.” She follows me everywhere, indoors and out, and sits near me when I work. She sits on me when I relax to read or watch tv. At bedtime, we have a normal tradition that will cause her to meow loudly if we break it. About an hour before bedtime, I’ll let her out to do her business. When it’s about time, I’ll let her back in and hold a perfectly good conversation with her while we go upstairs to bed.

ME: So, anything new?

CAT: Meow.

ME: Hmm, I see. I also saw that other cat across the street, is she a friend?

CAT: Meow.

We’ll do this all the way up the stairs. Then she’ll stop to use the wicker laundry basket (pay attention, we’ve already covered this) while I get undressed. Then she’ll come up to me before I get in bed so I can pick her up and place her gently on the bed. She can’t jump (not sure what happened before I got her) so I try to accommodate her when needed. Then I’ll get in bed, pull up the covers, and she’ll meow her way up my chest until her nose is inches from my face. I’ll pet her until she’s satisfied, then she’ll lay on my chest and stomach with her little face resting on my folded hands at the top of my chest. Seriously, she gets so close I can pick out the individual flavors in the Meow Mix she ate an hour ago…that close. Then we’ll fall asleep.

My wife liked to call her my “cancer kitty.” She spent a lot of time laying on my stomach and I can’t rule out that she was part of the cure. Whether she was or not, I was extremely grateful to have her companionship. My only worry was that she might be an angel and would leave for another patient when I got better. She stayed. She also continues to be devoted to me. I’m convinced she’s the sweetest cat alive.

Do you know how animals can give you different expressions depending on what’s going on? Like, dogs will look guilty and sad if you just caught them doing something you both know he shouldn’t be doing? Or like, cats will look at you with contempt and disinterest if you just caught them doing something you both (I think) know she shouldn’t be doing? There’s a happy look, a relieved look, an all-business look…especially with dogs and trees during a walk), a sleepy look, a scared look, etc. Well, my cat is so sweet, she only has two looks. An “I love you please pet me” look and a “don’t look at me, it was that stupid dog” look.

ME (staring at the cat): Did you do this?

CAT: Meow (while looking at the dog).

ME (Still staring at the cat): So you’re saying the dog did this?

CAT: Meow (content with her blaming).

ME: Ok, we’ll just ask the dog. Did you do this?

DOG (immediately making a guilty sad face): Um, it’s a hairball, so, well, maybe I did, um, yeah, I probably did, um, wait…what did I do again? Is that a car door I heard 5 miles away!?!? WOOF WOOF WOOF BARK BARK!

And that’s how that goes.


My cat takes walks with me. Seriously, just like a dog, but without a leash. If I go around the block, she paces with me every step of the way. If I go two blocks, there she is. If I go three blocks…well, I guess her limit is two blocks because when I turn around to look, she’s headed home.

For those of you who have been reading my blog for a while, you might remember that the cat showed up the day after I was diagnosed with stomach cancer. She’s rather large for a female cat which leads us to believe she’s at least part Maine Coon. She also has long non-shedding hair and a crooked tail. Finally, she is also the sweetest cat on the planet.

Without a doubt, she is devoted to me and in turn, I’ve become devoted to her. I’m not sure what caused her to pick me (people don’t pick cats, cats pick people) but I’m certainly glad she’s in my life. As far as I can tell, she’s probably about 7 or 8-years old so we probably have another 5 or 6 years together. At some point, I’m going to take her to the vet to find out for sure.

She spends a good part of her day outdoors and only comes in to eat, drink, and sleep. We don’t own a litterbox and she does her business outside. Sometimes, but rarely, she stays out all night. One night when I couldn’t sleep, I went outside and saw why. She has some cat friends in the neighborhood and they like to just sit around looking at each other. I can imagine the conversation.

OTHER CAT: You’re whipped.

MY CAT: No I’m not!

OTHER CAT: Yes, you are. We’ve seen you following your human around like a dog.

MY CAT: I’m whipped because I like to take walks?

OTHER CAT: You don’t see us walking around with our humans, do you?

MY CAT: I’ve never seen your human take a walk…

OTHER CAT: That’s beside the point! You act like a dog!

MY CAT: You look like a dog!



OTHER CAT: Roooowwwwrrrrrrr! (This is much more effective with its back arched and hair raised).

MY CAT: I’m going for a walk.

My cat isn’t much of a fighter. She once came running towards me with another cat chasing her. My cat hid behind my legs while I yelled for the other cat to leave. I guess she’s more of a hippie cat, you know, peace, love, catnip, etc.

All I know is that she stuck with me through cancer and stayed after it was gone. I feel like I owe this cat whatever I can give her. She makes me happy and I try to make her happy.


Literally. I spent a good two hours looking for the cat, worried she might be stuck somewhere or I accidentally left her outside. The outside part scares me because where we moved has some pretty wild animals that would make a meal out of my older cat…if they could get through all the fur.

Anyway, I kept looking around, and finally, after clicking my tongue a few times (the cat seems to respond to this) she came crawling out of a paper bag on the floor in front of me.

CAT: What?

ME: I thought you were lost.

CAT: You greatly over-estimate the size of my house.

ME: Your house?

CAT (responding in a sarcastic tone): Your house…of course, it’s my house. Are you still confused by this?

ME: Um, a little.

CAT: Ok, we’ll go through this again slowly so your little peanut-sized human brain can comprehend. Who brings me food?

ME: Um, I do.

CAT: Who lets me out when I demand it?

ME: Um, I do.

CAT: Who gives me water?

ME: Um, again, I do.

CAT: Yeah, but not very well. Sometimes I have to get a drink from the toilet when you fail.

ME: The toilet? Really?

CAT: Yeah. You know those times I come and lick you in the face?

ME: You mean…

CAT: Sure do. I have to get that taste out my mouth, so I get a drink, lick my butt, then lick your face.

ME: Oh…

CAT: So tell me, whose house is this?

ME: Um…

The fact remains, despite ownership of the house, that cats will find any little place to sleep. It can be a paper bag, a box, a pillow, my lap (where she is right now as I type this), a little pile of clothes, and so on. They are masters of sleep and comfortable places to do it. I hate to admit it, they are truly masters of their domain.

Still don’t believe me? When was the last time your cat did any chores? Huh? If you have a litterbox, who cleans it? Huh? At least a dog will fetch things or at least try to protect the house. A cat will stare at you with pity if you try to get her to fetch. A burglar will walk around your house unimpeded if it’s guarded by a cat…unless the cat wants a scratch around the neck. She has no problem ordering the burglar to do this. To her, a person is a person and they all have hands to do her bidding.

So, cats rule the world. You know the saying…Cats rule, dogs drool.

I still want a dog, however. Between my wife and the cat, I’m wanting something to be under me, that I can be in charge of…if it’s ok with them, of course…


If I’ve noticed anything about blog writing, it’s that people seem to like stories about my cat. I can’t blame you…she’s a pretty cool cat as far as cats go. Sometimes she’s more of a dog than the dog is…of course, that might be more of a reflection of the dog than the cat.

The dog in this story is not our dog, but my brother-in-law’s little Pomeranian who is under some kind of impression that he’s a cross between a kangaroo and a fox…and a vacuum cleaner. That dog will put anything in his mouth and let his stomach sort it out later. He’s like a Roomba with fur. He even makes some of the same sounds!

Anyway, the cat just tolerates him. He’ll bounce all around and she’ll just stare at him like he’s a freak show. Then, if he bounces too close, she’ll smack him in the head and he’ll back away quickly. He doesn’t seem to know what to make of the cat other than she has a lot more freedom and rights than he does. The most excitement she’ll generate is lifting her head so she doesn’t cause any trouble. The only interaction she has with the dog is that she’ll eat his food on occasion…probably to get even for the times he engulfed her food. All I know is that their conversations probably go like this:

DOG: Hey! Hey? Do you want to play with the ball? Huh? Huh?

CAT: I’d rather eat dirt.

DOG: Yes! Yes! Let’s eat dirt! I like to eat dirt! What’s dirt?

CAT: You’re a moron.

DOG: Yes! Yes! I am a…wait, what?

CAT: An idiot.

DOG: Oh, yes! Yes! That’s good, right?

CAT: Go away.

DOG: Oh, yes! I can play that!

CAT: Seriously, go away. You’re too close. I can smell your horrible breath.

DOG: I knew we were close! I knew it!

CAT: What did you eat? My hairball?

DOG: Oh, oh! Do you have a hairball? Where? I need something to throw up later!

CAT: Ugh, smells like you already have…

DOG: Thank you! Thank you! We’re friends, huh?

At that point, the cat will usually smack the dog upside the head. This will cause him to do the kangaroo thing and jump three feet into the air. Then, after a brief sidelong glance of confusion, the dog will go and find something to pee on or chew on, or both. You could say he’s an “emotional” eater…except for him, any emotion will do.


Three days ago, my cat disappeared. The last time I saw her, she had been walking next to me while I went on a little prayer walk late at night. We often walked together. She was an indoor-outdoor cat, which means she was indoors when it was cold or rainy, outdoors when the weather was nice. The last night we walked together, she opted to stay outside. It was a beautiful cool night and I imagine she had some mice to chase down with the neighbor cat. This was normal for her. She never wandered very far, seldom leaving the yard to hunt or sleep or whatever she would do at the time.

You might be wondering…why is he writing about a cat? What’s the big deal about a cat? Cats come and go. They generally do what they want when they want. For most of my life, I’ve been accepting of cats, but being more of a dog person, I didn’t dwell on them too much. If they came by me, and they almost always came by me, I would pet them behind the ears and listen to them purr away. This cat was different. She was more of a companion to me than a pet. She was special…so special that even my wife, not overwhelmingly an animal person, loved her dearly.

What made her special? Intuition. This cat could sense things that were quite remarkable for a cat. She just knew when I was sad, or upset, or hurting somehow. She was always there to comfort me. Yeah, I know, many pets are like this, especially dogs, but she was specific.

I met her the day after I was diagnosed with stomach cancer. She showed up in my life thanks to my wife and her friend who just had two cats dumped on her and she already had a cat. This cat didn’t get along with the others, even the one she arrived with, and my wife thought it would be funny to bring the cat over to my office to meet me. She put the cat by my door before running to the side of the house to watch what would happen. I heard a couple of meows and opened my door and in came the cat. She hopped up on my desk chair, looked at me, and meowed. From that moment on, she was my constant companion. I didn’t pick her, she picked me.

That night, while I laid in bed, she jumped up and laid on my stomach. For the next four months, she laid on my stomach while I went through cancer. When I was given the “all clear,” the cat quit laying on my stomach and slept wherever she chose…until I broke my foot. Yes, you guessed it, she laid on my foot. In the past couple of years, every time my wife or I had an injury or a pain, she laid on it. That cat had more love in her than anything I’ve ever seen.

I like to think my cat knew how to talk. Whenever you asked her something, she always meowed in return. If my wife and I would have a conversation, the cat would get between us and meow in-between our conversation, as if she were adding her own opinion.

She was so devoted to me she would cry for an hour when I would leave for work and would greet me in the driveway when I came home at 2:30 in the morning. Then we would spend a little time together before I would go to bed and the normal routine of climbing on my chest for nose nuzzles would ensue. Then she would climb on my wife’s chest to do the same thing before retiring to the end of the bed…unless we had an injury or pain, then she would lay there for a while.

By now, I’m sure you gathered that I loved that cat. She would often bring in a level of sanity that provided me with the additional hope that I would beat cancer. Don’t get me wrong, I had plenty of support from my family and friends. Even my ex-wife did an incredible thing of keeping secret the moment my youngest son (living in another state nearly 1500 miles away) visited after a long 5 years. That fueled my optimism further and gave me yet another reason to beat this thing. It was a moving moment that finally provided my ex-wife a chance to get a video of me crying, apparently something that suddenly became a goal. Everyone knows I’m a softy at heart so it wasn’t a challenge at this moment. Yes, I cried, I cried a mixture of happiness to see my youngest son and a shred of fear that it might be the last time I would see my youngest son.

Back to the cat. I think I’ve already convinced you she was special in every way. The only cat-like thing she was ever guilty of was an occasional hairball or a well-placed poop on the bathroom floor. Even then she showed her intelligence by knowing which room to do it in.

I miss her dearly and I know more days are ahead of where I’ll think of her again and fight the tears welling in my eyes. She was pure in thoughts and intentions and I know my cancer kitty was an angel kitty sent by God to get me through my ordeal.

In conclusion, she was probably found by a coyote, bobcat, owl, mountain lion, or large fox…maybe even a large eagle. If so, I hope her terror was short-lived. This thought tears me up and I pray this wasn’t the case…the thought of her suffering brings my breath up short and the rage and depression sets in…in no particular order. The only hope I hold out was that she was a larger cat (part Maine Coon) and was able to get away (my hope) or fight them off (not my hope because she could have been mortally injured).

There’s also the chance that she was such a loving friendly cat that somebody picked her up. All I can hope for in my prayers is that it was somebody who needs her as I did. Somebody with cancer or another illness that needed her love and care the way I did. This is my most fervent hope…other than my selfish hope of getting her back…and I hope to one day hear about how a beautiful long-haired grey, brown, and black-furred cat with a cute tiger-striped face and crooked tail saved the life of another human.

All I can say is that I believe she was sent by God to teach me even more about unconditional love and it worked. About three years ago I began to suffer again with my worst sin of pride. I began to alienate my wife and she pointed out the pride I had been embellishing was getting out of control. Everything began to crumble around me and eventually what unwarranted pride I had left deserted me and I realized I wasn’t all that great as I thought I was. I became down, depressed, suicidal at times, and felt beset from every angle from my job, hobbies, relationships, false accusations from people I thought I respected, as well as enormous stress from combat memories and fellow veteran suicides that often left me wondering when my turn would come. It just seemed like all my prayers were being ignored. Then came the cat…the cat sent from God to assist my wife to get me through this. My prayer was answered.

My final word…when you pray, don’t assume you know how it will turn out. I once heard a line from a song that resonated with me: “and if you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans.” This was from a song by Van Zant called Help Somebody. God seems to have a way to change everything, especially when you think you know how it’s going to turn out.

Right now, I plan to find my cat, if possible. If not, God’s plans may have put her where she could do some good. God knows she changed my life for the better.


About the Creator


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