THE CAT FAMILY MCCREADIE

A house full of purrs

DEAR BEAST: Would it be too much trouble
for you to get out of the typewriter case? It’s not
that I mind the company but the paper you're

shredding happens to

be page two of this

manuscript, and probably bad for your digestion.

Your friend is here at my
feet. She obyects to the click
of the keys and “Thirrups” in
despair. Can't you hear her?
She'd love a game of Hide-
and-Go-Pussycat.

Here comes the king of
beasts too. Where have you
been. you old devil? You
missed breakfast. Yowl all
you like, but it’s crunchies or
nothing ‘ull dinner. Oh, for
heaven's sake, get your paws
out of the typewriter keys.

They preen themselves
around my feet. Cricket
yawns, stretches and leaps
out of the typewriter case.
Misty. the youngest, just a
year old, cuffs her on the ear
and gets a reply full of pussy
profanity. Properly disciplin-
ed, she huddles under my
chair.

Keno, better known as the
“king” rolls on to his side and
searches for an elusive flea.

Timmy stalks in through
the cat door. “Miaow?” he
asks. (Interpreted to mean,
“What's going on and why
wasn’t I invited?”) I give up
and head for the Puss-in-
Boots.

They can all hear the click
of a can opener from a thou-
sand yards and while I go
through the ceremony of
getting the plate, finding the
opener and dishing-up. the
McCreadie family choir
begins. Soprano (Cricket),
alto (Misty), tenor (Timmy)
and bass (Keno). Four char-
ming strays. Although they
aren't much on harmony. in
song or otherwise, they
make up for it in enthusiasm.

Cricket, black satin and
green eyes, was from Doris
Orr's DONATE. Misty. one
of a large htter born to a
fnend’s cat, yust missed the
SPCA by a whisker. Timmy
has told her all about 11 — he
spent a few days there as a
kitten and didn’t care for it

at all, Keno is nicknamed
“The Ugly American”
because we rescued him

trom the Bucket of Blood
Saloon in Virginia City,
Nevada

“Anyone own this kitten?”
1 asked the bartender. “Hell

no, lady. He's been hanging
around for a couple of days.
Wonder the dogs haven't got
him.”

Only a few weeks old, suf-
fering from rickets, he
wouldn't have been much of

trayel-
wise

by Barbara
McCreadie

a match for a chihuahua,
much less a pack of
mongrels. He didn’t mind a
bit when we tossed him in
the car although he sat on
my husband's shoulder most
of the way back to Canada,
watching the road. “He
wants to know the way back,
just in case he doesn’t hke it
at our house,” remarked one
of the kids.

Probably. But being the
strong-minded cat that he is,
he soon put a stop to
anything he didn't care for
— a weluding the wrong
brand of cat food,
neighborhood dogs,
trespassing cats and closed
doors (especially into
bedrooms). Two rolls of his

passport

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black paws and you can
forget anything about
bedroom privacy. “Must be
some mistake,” he yowls.
“Forget to let me in?”

Timmy got yanked out of
the SPCA just in time. My
youngest daughter's eighth
birthday was now and the
only thing she wanted was
“an animal of my own”. For
some reason, kittens weren't
plentiful. No “litter of
beautiful part-Persians, free
to a good home” advertised.
We settled for Timmy,
although I thought him quite
an ugly little beast. He isn't.

Now, four years and hun-
dreds of dollars worth of vet
bills later, he’s magnificent.
Grey and white, all spotless-
ly licked, he’s got ears as bit
as Dumbo, Walt Disney's
baby elephant. His eyes are
saucer-sized and _ bight
yellow. How could I ever
have thought dear Timmy
ugly?

My middle daughter wat-
ched Timmy grow from a
sickly kitten to a sleek cat.
For some reason, he knew
from the start that he was the
youngest daughter's cat,
sleeping in her room, begg-
ing from her plate, choosing
her lap over all the others. “]
think I need my own cat,
too,” ventured Suzy. “I'd like
a girl cat. Black,” she decid-
ed.

Have you ever tried to get
a black girl-cat when every
cat in town decided to be
tabby or tortoiseshel!l that
month?

Doris Orr finally came up
with a small stray, taken in

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by an elderly lady who
couldn't keep her. Cricket,
as we called her, had the
sense to know that she
belonged to Suzy and set up
catkeeping in Suzy’s room.

She turned out to be a skit-
ty cat, nervous, anti-social
and dainty. Not for her were
Strangers, other cats or
MEN. She barely tolerates
my husband, and then only
when he’s got a tn of cat
food in his hand. She bitches
at the other cats, using
language only a dock cat
would understand. Paws and
claws are at the ready to de-
fend herself against anything
else on four feet but she
doesn't use them on people.
She loves the women of the
family, from a_ careful
distance, and should she
decide to sit on your lap,
you'd miss a plane rather
than set her down.

Misty joined the family

CONTINUED ON PAGE C15

SHIRLEY HARTMAN

LEER EC ORE. CREE ON EET ERED S

— oS q at

On the Waterfront in Horseshoe Bay.
Come down and discover our great
Selection of Chnstmas Gifts ...
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and much more in our warm and cozy atmosphere
Be sure and stop in, there is plenty
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& a

C9 - Sunday News, December 7, 1980

i, 2420 Marine Drive,
| West Vancouver, B.C.

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ESCAPE FROM THE SNOW
to sunny
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