  So I have a thing for cats. All critters really, but cats with personality, with chutzpah and spice the most. A few years ago, a wonderful black panther of a cat spun crazy like a leaf blowing into my life. She had sunflower eyes and a triangular face. She was delicate and powerful and exhilarating and tender.
I loved her body & soul, but she was killed by a dog, a needy spotty mongrel beast, a cross between a pit bull & a dalmation with the brains of neither and a lust for the hunt that claimed my Mallory's life and my happiness in one fell swoop. I miss her deeply, she can still make me cry. Kitty Meow Kitty lives across town from me, in the house next to a dear friend, and she rivals Mallory for sheer coolness.
She hugs like a child, she tucks her forehead under my chin and kneads my chest with eager feet. She makes my heart sing. I see her less now that I do not sleep at that house, now that I do not sit on the porch in the sunshine with her, fetch her from the neighbor with caresses and our special hug.
Why don't I just get a cat already, you might say? Stop my whining and my strange obsession with other people's beloved pets, stop my elaborate scenarios of catnappings and stealing them away from their always undeserving families? Well, I can't. Here at the Establishment (a tale for another day) I cannot have a cat. Nevermind that Wizard lives here, for all intents and purposes. Wizard isn't our cat. He isn't even named Wizard. I'm not even sure some days that he is a cat. He is the crustiest, boniest Head Wound Harry I have ever seen. When I met him several years ago, he had staples in his partially shaved noggin.
He makes horrible noises. He smells funny and he licks the floor when you scratch him right above his tail. He loves laps. I do love him, but the interaction with Wizard is minimal. GIVE ME LOVE! MEOWWWRrrrRRRR. He is the master of expressing Supreme Irritation. This occurs when you fail to pet him, when you pet him too much, or not just right, when you open the door or don't open the door, when you remove the Lap, when the Lap isn't quite right, when you eat, when you drink, when you don't get up quite fast enough at 4 a.m. when he wants out of your room, when you Screw Up.
You never know when this will be, but after Supreme Irritation is expressed, there is no doubt. Wizard rules the roost. He decides who is allowed to come over (of the feline persuasion, that is) and when. Most other meowboxes are percata non grata, and feel his crusty wrath, but on occasion, someone will break through and charm Wizard, or at least not threaten him, and we have a second cat buddy to hang out.
In this fashion I met Josh, a very cool, bird-chasing, gangly grey teenager cat. Josh came around daily until his family moved away and didn't even let him say goodbye. Bastards. I also met Dudley in this fashion, and Dudley was an angel, a true gift to me. He came around one rainy day when I was new to the house. I had injured my back and was sacked out on a housemate's couch counting things and dying of boredom and floating in a fog of drugs. Dudley, a.k.a. Stubby-No-Tail due to his tailless physique, charmed me, won me over completely.
He was black like my Mallory, and her death was still fresh on my conscience then. He had green eyes and a pure cat soul, and wicked swipe, and was a supreme cuddler. He too moved away without leaving a forwarding address, so I hope he found a new girl to charm. Since those two brave creatures won over Wizard with their wiley ways, there has been no one.
A recent mottled teen came around, but he and the Wiz were bitter enemies from the moment they saw one another. But the other day, a huge fluffball wandered in, blue-gray with a pushed in face and one milky grey eye, like a marble. This cat seems to own the place. She climbs in people's lofts. She lolls about on the kitchen floor like she has lived here for years. She has no collar or tags and she and Wiz are indifferent to each other, strangely so. You would think I would be ecstatic, wouldn't you? All my plotting and planning and a lovely soft furball has simply walked in to stay. But this one, this one is weird. It doesn't like to be petted, it doesn't interact. It is like a cute stuffed cat that sometimes makes noises.
It purrs near you, and it isn't scared, but when you caress her, her spine turns squishy and bends the wrong way to avoid your hand. Despite my best efforts, she likes neither chin scratches, belly rubs, gentle touches or hard pets. She likes us, but it's like having a fish with fur. No fun at all. Decoration that wants food. I'm so disappointed. :| She is in my loft now... sacked out, and I have no belief that she will cuddle with me.
Such a tease. Her presence is both pleasant and infuriating. Of all the cats... sigh. At least she doesn't have staples in her head. 
