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By Dan Klarmann on March 23rd, 2008

Easter Snow Wets the Cat

I sit and watch the fluffy flakes
  descend this Easter morn.
My cat peers in and loudly states
  his distaste of this dawn.

I let him in and brush his fur
  with bare hand now quite dank.
His pleasure shows with a loud purr
  but, “Phew!” this cat has stank!

Here’s a snapshot of our not-quite-feral cat during the previous snow:

Maori in the snow

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Related posts:
  1. Happy Easter, What?
  2. A Martian anthropologist tries to understand Easter.
  3. The annual non-sequitur of Easter (Or is God’s “gift” based on a warped version of the moral accounting metaphor?).
  4. It wasn’t the snow so much as the ice
  5. Snowflake architecture

About the Author

A convoluted mind behind a curly face. A regular traveler, a science buff, and first generation American. Graying of hair, yet still verdant of mind. Lives in South St. Louis City. See his personal website for (too much) more.

Whimsy

Comments (2)

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  1. projektleiterin says:
    March 26, 2008 at 6:20 am

    He’s a cute little fatty. :D

  2. Dan Klarmann says:
    March 26, 2008 at 4:29 pm

    He’s solidly muscular. But now, in his 3rd year, he is getting soft in the belly. He never did learn to properly groom himself, thus the pungent aroma when wet.

    Back before the blog, and not long after my father died, I wrote about our decision to capture this creature:

    This morning, I betrayed the big orange alley cat that we recently decided to adopt. We first saw him in out yard last fall, as a gangly kitten.

    As of last Thursday, he was still afraid of us. We left out some food. By Sunday, he was willing to come and eat as I sat near the food. Tuesday, he let us pet him, a little. Yesterday, I could pick him up and hold him, briefly. So we made an appointment for this morning at the vet up the street to get him basic shots and neutered.

    We now call this vocal male, “Maori,” as he seems to call himself.

    I got up early today, and went out to find him. He’d spent the night on our back porch. I called him, and he came out eagerly, if a bit guardedly. I petted him, and his constant talking went vibrato as he purred. I went inside to get the food bowl, and to get keys and my jacket. I went out, and put the bowl in the cat carrier that we had put outside a few days ago. A few more seconds of friendly petting, and then he then happily stuck his front end into the carrier to get the food.

    Shove, click! What? WHAT?!? He first spun around, trying to find the exit. Then he wildly thumped around. Finally he settled down to wailing his distress.

    Betrayed! It hurt me to hear his valid accusations. After living alone and unfettered his whole life, he had finally accepted that, just maybe, these two particular upright primates on his property were not only not threats, but acceptable company. Possibly even adoptable. And then they abused his growing trust.

    I put him in the car, and drove him to the vet. There were already 2 nervous dogs and one distressed kitten in line ahead of us. His plaints were of such a degree that they set the others off, too. After several minutes of paperwork, he settled down to simply meowing in alternation with the other cat; commiserating. Before I left him, I looked into the cage. He look back at me, and I swear I could read, “How could you do this to me?” on his big face.

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