August 30, 2007


Filed under: Uncategorized — Jim @ 10:10 pm


Farookin’ cat.

Let me begin by saying that he’s not our cat … sort of.

Very shortly after Junior ceased being a little kitten, but still not a cat, he would show up out of nowhere, block the front door and flip over on his back, legs akimbo, just begging for a tummy scratch. I have since learned from a friend of TJ’s, who is an owner of more than one cat, that this is called the “Cute Trap.”

Let me say at this point that we are not Cat Peeps. We had a dog for many years until he had to be put to sleep about eight years ago (Don’t ask. It was awful.), and while neither of us would harm a cat, we know zip about cats and really didn’t care to learn.

I was better at ignoring the Cute Trap than was Mrs. Parkway, but after only a few of Junior’s performances Mrs. Parkway decided that “The poor thing must be hungry.”

Oy, here we go.

For a few days it was a saucer of milk outside on the deck, which Junior eagerly lapped up. Then one day I opened up one of the cabinets in the kitchen and found an ample supply of gourmet cat food, both wet and dry. WTF?

Given the availability of Five Star Dining, it is not surprising that Junior began showing up for breakfast and dinner served on the deck.

I said, “I really don’t want this damned cat in the house.”


Once Junior learned how well the Cute Trap worked, he also learned how to run into the house at warp speed, where he did his “Rub Against Every-Friggin’ Thing, Including Us” trick. Within days, Junior was now taking his breakfast and dinner in the kitchen in the House by the Parkway.

He then began staking out a comfortable chair for long post-prandial naps. After these naps, he would try the “Scratch the Couch” routine. This invariably got him the immediate Bum’s Rush, which didn’t seem to bother him at all, as he would show up for the next meal at the appointed time. His thing is to sit on the railing of the deck, stare into the kitchen window and “Meow.” He is a handsome devil, and I believe he knows it.

One day, as Junior was getting the Post-Couch-Scratching Bum’s Rush out the front door, when one of my neighbor’s grown children said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Jim. Is he bothering you? ’Come here, Corrado!’”

“Is this your cat?” I asked.

“Yes, it is,” she replied.

“What did you say his name was?” I asked.


“You mean, like in the Sopranos? Corrado Soprano? Uncle Junior?”

“Yes, that’s his name.”

Note: Prior to this time, he answered (sort of) to the name “Pain in the Ass” or “Douchebag,” but from that moment on, he became “Junior.”

The problem with this is that two of the indicia of ownership of personal property (and, alas, cats, like dogs, are personal property – a special kind of personal property, but personal property nonetheless) are the exercise dominion and control over the property by the owners. My neighbors, nice folks though they may be, exercise neither. Claiming ownership of something without exercising dominion and control over it is not unlike claiming ownership of a distant star.

So, that’s why I say that Junior is not our cat … sort of, because, while we don’t own him, he regularly takes his meals and periodic snoozes here. I have heard people say that no one owns cats, but rather cats own people. I’m beginning to get it now.

To this day, Junior has not spent the night in the House by the Parkway, but as the summer is coming to an end, and as I think about the oncoming single digit temperatures and snow drifts several feet deep, I have a feeling that, even though we don’t “own” Junior, he will show up outside the window freezing his stindeens off, and I will hear, “We can’t leave him out there.”

In short, I have a feeling that a litter box (blechhhh) is in my future, and I’m not thrilled.

Having said that, this week, for forty-eight hours or so, Junior didn’t show up. I began to think, “Did the sorry ass get himself run over? Maybe his ‘owners’ gave him away? Where is he?” When I would come home from work, I’d ask, “Any sign of Junior?”

The answer was, “No.”

Last night I decided that if he didn’t show up for another day, I was going to ask my neighbors if they had given him away.

I realized that I missed his sorry, aloof, come-around-when-he-feels-like-it ass.

When I came home from work tonight, I saw Junior’s bowl in the kitchen, and asked (happier than I care to admit), “Did Junior surface?”

“Yep, after you left for work, he came for breakfast,” and while we were outside having a pre-dinner cocktail, ol’ Junior showed up for dinner.

Farookin’ cat.


  1. Awwww. What a cute cat. My cat, Buster, does the same cute trap thing.

    It’s nice that y’all look out for the bugger, too.

    Comment by RT — August 30, 2007 @ 10:51 pm

  2. Pussy-whipped, man.

    Comment by Joan of Argghh! — August 30, 2007 @ 11:21 pm

  3. I think Junior’s decided you need a cat and he’s volunteered. Sometimes they do that. There they are, living in a household and then they disappear, only to surface at their chosen abode.

    In short, you’ve been shopped and pronounced cat-worthy.


    Comment by Nancy — August 31, 2007 @ 12:51 am

  4. Be very careful, Cuz. Cats are bad. Cats named “Junior”? Look out.

    Comment by Cousin Jack — August 31, 2007 @ 1:41 am

  5. If Junior can’t catch a mouse, kick his sorry butt off the deck. Nothing worse than a sorry-ass cat that poops in a litter box and won’t hunt. It ain’t natural, I tell ya!

    Comment by Jerry — August 31, 2007 @ 1:52 am

  6. What a pussy……………..

    Comment by Brian, the Air Force Vet — August 31, 2007 @ 2:20 am

  7. heh… it’s what they do. Consider yourself charmed.

    Comment by Jean — August 31, 2007 @ 6:00 am

  8. Heh-heh, you’re a BIG SUCKER. You have no idea how many dumb clucks out there, myself included, were convinced of the inalienable fact that they weren’t “Cat Peeps.”

    My parents, into their fifties, weren’t “Cat Peeps,” or so they assumed. Then B’boo came into our lives, he did the “Cute Trap” thing, and since then, like it or not, we are “Big Time Cat Peeps.”

    Years later, when we had to release B’boo to the Big Litterbox in the Sky (you shouldn’t know from it — heartbreaking stuff), and we already had Alvy at that point, too, my parents decided, “We have to get another one, so Alvy isn’t lonely.” *rolls eyes* And that’s how they went from zero cats in 55+ years, to three cats in less than 10.

    The moral of the story (and sorry for the gigantic comment — you know you love it, so bite me): “Not Cat Peeps” usually turn out to be the “Biggest Cat Peeps.”

    And a lesson you should have learned from reading “Gut Rumbles” over the years is that the peeps who pay cats the least amount of attention are the peeps the cats try their hardest to win over. Consider yourself warned.

    Next thing you know, you’ll be paying its vet bills, buying it squeaky toys, and falling in love with “Junior/Corrado,” in general.

    Comment by Erica — August 31, 2007 @ 7:08 am

  9. Jimbo, Jimbo, Jimbo.

    If nothing else, I thought my storied history with cats would be a cautionary tale.

    Thank your lucky stars that you don’t have small children to exacerbate the situation!

    Comment by Craig — August 31, 2007 @ 8:52 am

  10. Two cat toys were in the house as of about ten days ago. I didn’t buy them. ::sigh::


    Comment by Jim — August 31, 2007 @ 9:18 am

  11. …. man, be careful… it is a slippery, slippery slope…..our three stay outside… and they know better than to try to get in the door when I’m around….

    … but still.. even though I dont consider myself a cat person, they are pretty to look at when they are in their element….

    Comment by Eric — August 31, 2007 @ 11:00 am

  12. Looks like an american ragdoll variety. You have been catted, which is somewhat like being Velicoprobed but at the least the cat comes back.

    Comment by james old guy — August 31, 2007 @ 12:01 pm

  13. So far, no cats have turned up on my doorstep to try and win me over. I’m a dog person too… although we don’t have one right now. My daughter has cats, but she lives about 1000 miles away so they don’t come visit. *grin*

    Comment by Teresa — August 31, 2007 @ 12:15 pm

  14. Well, it’s all over now, my friend. I was always a dog person until our little Tiger showed up one afternoon when I was tearing down our old barn, she was barely big enough to fill a hand, I guess she was living in the place. Well, just like Junior, one thing led to another, now she’s “my cat”. She adopted me and lived quite happily side by side with our Lab, Sheba the Hound from Heck until Sheba passed on some months ago. Now Tiger has developed velcro fur and has to be with me, if I’m doing something, or on me when I’m sitting or sleeping. Sleeps half on top of me all night. She’s amost 19 years old, don’t know how much longer she’s going to be around, but I have to return that affection while she is. Cat’s aren’t all that bad, Jimbo, you just have to get used to being put in your place by them once in a while.

    Comment by gregor — August 31, 2007 @ 1:28 pm

  15. “There are many intelligent species in the Universe. They are all owned by cats.”

    Get Junior a scratching post (they’re fairly cheap), and when he starts on the couch, relocate him to the post and he’ll get the idea soon enough. The other decision is whether or not to get him fixed — which I’d personally recommend, if he’s spending that much time at your place.

    Comment by DMerriman — August 31, 2007 @ 3:48 pm

  16. For a minute I thought that little sign hanging under the cat was some sort of MENU chalkboard.

    Comment by dogette — August 31, 2007 @ 5:15 pm

  17. yeah… what DOES that sign say??

    Comment by Jean — August 31, 2007 @ 6:04 pm

  18. Yes…the power of the Cute Trap! I know it well. We have an indoor cat, and then we have the “outdoor/garage/who owns it?” cat. She comes in every morning for her little “treat”. I’m trying very hard not to get too attached, but she melts me every day. So we let her come into our garage/office for treats and naps. And yes, we even got a cat box.

    Those cats….they know how to work it!

    Comment by DogsDontPurr — August 31, 2007 @ 6:31 pm

  19. He will be in your bed next week. Get use to it.

    Comment by Catfish — August 31, 2007 @ 8:49 pm

  20. Not only that, Cat…soon he’ll be following Elisson’s lead, and posting photos of Joonior for “Tummy Tuesdays,” “Saturday Skritches,” “Parkway Pussy” (but you already get tons of Google hits for that anyways, don’t you?) and all other assortment of Kitty-Related Carnivalia.

    Comment by Erica — August 31, 2007 @ 9:07 pm

  21. What a great frickin’ name for a cat in Jersey.

    Comment by Bou — August 31, 2007 @ 10:52 pm

  22. “Parkway Pussy?” You kiss yo mama wit dat mouth?


    Comment by Jim — August 31, 2007 @ 11:12 pm

  23. My mama says much woise dan dat. Now youse know where I got it from.

    Comment by Erica — September 1, 2007 @ 6:11 am

  24. They do get to you.

    We are owned by three and a half of one.

    We used to hate cats.

    Comment by aithne — September 1, 2007 @ 11:40 am

  25. I think the sign says:


    Comment by Craig — September 1, 2007 @ 11:45 pm

  26. thanks, Craig… that’s what I thought!

    Comment by Jean — September 2, 2007 @ 10:56 am

  27. OK, here’s what the sign says. Nobody won the colored pencil set.

    “I hope my ship comes in before my deck rots.”


    Comment by Jim — September 2, 2007 @ 10:59 am

  28. That was going to be my next guess.

    Comment by Craig — September 3, 2007 @ 12:49 pm

  29. Dogs have owners. Cats have staff.

    Comment by Denny — September 6, 2007 @ 3:19 pm

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