What I Did for Love

It's hard to be a cat sometimes. Or at least, I think it would be. You don't do much in order to show affection to your humans. Most of the time you just want to be left alone. But every once in a while you just want to say I love you. That's all. And all that happens is you cause your person to scream and yell at you to get away. I'm sure it is a confusing part of life for you. Humans are weird.

Last year Herman broke down and said that it would be okay if we got a cat to add to our lively household. He only had a few requirements:

1. Short hair.
2. Female cat.
3. Only one cat.
4. We would only keep the cat if it didn't cause problems in the house. As soon as it became a problem, we would need to find it another home.

We were very excited about this, so we headed to our local cat shelter and picked out a cute little purring calico ... who got home and figured out that she had no desire to hang with us at all. I should have figured this out when she clawed desperately to get out of the cardboard cat carrier when we brought her home. This kitty who was so snuggly with us at the shelter did the ultimate bait and switch and let us know in no uncertain terms that she was not to be touched at all ... except for Minsy. For some crazy reason, this kitten, Patches, loved to snuggle with Minsy.

Well, Patches was a big fat bummer of a kitten to own. She was not all that friendly or all that cute or all that convenient. We began to think that the best thing to do to help her was to find her a cat companion to teach her the ropes. A family in our ward, the Hortons, had a cat who had some kittens, and they were looking for someone to adopt the babies. We thought that this kitten would provide the perfect solution to our Patches dilemma. This new kitten would be used to being handled by lots of kids and would have been in a house with other cats, so it would know the ropes of how to be a good house cat. And that's how we ended up with a second cat, a male cat with long hair. Poor Herman.

I started out calling this cat Mr. Mistoffelees from the musical Cats, but soon I decided that I preferred calling the cat Marco Rubio (future humans: he is a senator from Florida). But Minsy couldn't really say any of those names, and she just started calling him MooMoo. So that's how MooMoo got his name.

MooMoo is an okay cat. He's not totally snuggly, but he treats us well. Sadly, Patches loved the outdoors, but never could find his way home after he left. The first time he left our house he was gone for three days. At about 4:30 in the morning one winter day she was meowing loudly in our backyard trying to get inside. But because of her standoffishness toward us she refused to come when we called. Finally, Minsy was able to coax her out of hiding. We tried to keep her close to the house, but one day she left and never came back. She had the love of the outdoors but didn't really have the skills to stay safe out there.

MooMoo, on the other hand, is a lion when it comes to outdoor activities. He LOVES to be outside, especially now that it is nice and warm outside. He stalks the woods and our property looking for action. He loves the HUNT!

But here's the thing ... MooMoo is not content to enjoy his fun alone. He wants to share his joy with us ... particularly with the girls. When the weather isn't totally oppressive we sometimes leave our front door open, and during those days we would sometimes find small dead lizards at the doorway of the girls room. MooMoo had left them there to share with his best buds. He just wanted to show his love for them.

The girls were not amused.

That brings us to today. Well, actually I'll go back a few days. A few days ago MooMoo hit the jackpot in his hunting. He captured a chipmunk. It was huge. He brought it inside, and after freaking out the girls discovered that the chipmunk had been playing dead. It was still alive. After much chaos and confusion we were able to get it outside to freedom. Phew! But MooMoo would not be deterred. He loves Katie and Minsy, and he was bound and determined to bring them a sign of his affection.

MooMoo got to hang out outside this morning while I took Minsy to her bus stop at Grandma and Grandpa's. After her bus left I walked back home, and I could see MooMoo in our garden, sitting primly and seeming to be waiting for me to come home. As soon as I arrived at our property he started to walk toward me. He looked sooooo proud. Dignified. I think he was happy with what he was planning to do. I got to the door and turned around to let him inside when I freaked out. There in his mouth was a dead (I thought) chipmunk with his arms and legs splayed out in a perfect death pose. I yelled at MooMoo to get the heck out of here. No! No! No! No! I was not having that brought into our house.

MooMoo looked devastated, if a cat can look such a way. He looked confused. He just sat there .... waiting.

I came inside and did what any good and brave soul would do ... I told JoJo that since he was the man of the house this week it was his responsibility to take care of this problem. (Herman and Hyrum are gone this week on a scout canoe trip). JoJo went outside to see what was up and came back to say that the poor chipmunk was not quite dead. He looked like he had a broken leg and maybe a torn throat, but the poor thing was hanging on to life. I think that MooMoo was enjoying this chipmunk suffering a little too much. He's a sadist, sadly. A cat sadist.

Eventually the little critter succumbed to her injuries and left this world for chipmunk heaven. JoJo helped take the little body to a more suitable resting place. MooMoo was extremely disappointed with this turn of events. That little animal was meant to be a gourmet dessert for his favorite humans. He was not happy with our lack of enthusiasm for his hunting prowess. He's been avoiding us all day because of this.

Oh well. Like I say ... it's hard to be a cat.