Tag Archives: zoe

Variations on A Recurring Theme, or I Get No Respect

I think most of you long time readers of my blog probably have a reasonable idea of who I am. You know I am a pug who will not suffer fools gladly, to paraphrase George Bernard Shaw’s famous, “He was, I believe, not in the least an ill-natured man: very much the opposite, I should say; but he would not suffer fools gladly.” I do think that is a fair assessment of yours truly. I am not one to be challenged, teased, or micromanaged. I can be somewhat standoffish, slightly critical (but usually accurate), and not terribly interested in interacting with my own or other species. And yes, I am a bit of a curmudgeon. So, if you, dear reader, understand my strengths and foibles, then why wouldn’t one incredibly cheeky, inappropriate, and uncontrolled kitten?

This Zoe has been the bane of my existence on Cape Cod. She has taken it into her feline sized brain that I am the object of her attention, that I am a pug with whom to toy, and that she need not observe any of the rules of respectful behavior.

The other night I was enjoying a wonderful post-dinner nap on my grandparents new winter shag area rug in the TV room. I can remember the evening well because I was transported by dreams of such incredible bliss about the object of my affection, when I became aware of a small but annoying paw, persistently patting me. Normally, I either would have moved or swatted it away, but this evening I had no desire to disturb my pleasant reverie. I opened one eye slowly and unobtrusively so that I could discover the source of the annoyance. I watched this creature, Zoe, lying near me, as she slithered closer and closer, using her body in a reptilian way, as only a cat or snake can. I was both repelled and fascinated, curious to see what tactic she would next employ. Her head actually was touching mine and she continued to put forth her paw of mass destruction. She somehow assumed it was okay to keep touching me as she inched closer. At that point something primeval fired in my brain, causing me to lunge at her, using my voice in a most primitive manner, like the pug beast I really am. She looked shocked, disbelieving, and surprisingly, intrigued! She was not chastened or contrite. I still cannot believe her response and it continues to rankle me.

I will never understand cats.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Look at her cunning little face as she plots her next attack.

Look at her cunning little face as she plots her next attack.

Looks innocent, doesn't she, as she rests in her cat nest?

Looks innocent, doesn't she, as she rests in her cat nest? Look at those paws. See what I mean?

Oliver is another story. We have a mutual respect for one another's space. You do not want to mess with him.

Oliver is another story. We have a mutual respect for one another's space. You do not want to mess with him.

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Cat On A Hot Tin Roof, or I’m Not Interested in What You’re Selling

Ah, dear reader, I did have misgivings about writing Monday’s blog but I am both moved and touched by all of your incredibly thoughtful words and good wishes. You must believe me that I had no intention of inspiring such an outpouring when I wrote it. I am as happy, fulfilled, and hungry as I could be, so no more concerns about me, please.

I must disagree with Sigmund Freud who said, “Time spent with cats is never wasted.”  Today, I am addressing an issue, which I introduced earlier, and have let drop for much too long, and that is the silver tabby named Zoë. I hoped by ignoring her she might disappear or even just fade into oblivion. But no, she is here to stay and is certainly an ever-visible presence.

She reminds me of certain people and dogs who cannot respect or recognize boundaries. I am sure you know to what I refer when I say that their concept of personal space differs vastly from yours or mine. Zoë, I even shudder using her name because I don’t wish to make her real, has no sense of propriety, nor does she understand that she should always defer to me. She has no sense of class or species separation. At any opportunity she will approach me, try to engage me in play or repartee, and today’s behavior was an affront to my dignity. While I was lying in Grandma’s office, with my harness and leash on, since we were leaving soon, she had the audacity to lie beside me and begin playing with my leash! She took it into her mouth and between her front paws, and then tugged at it wildly. Thinking she had enticed me, she then proceeded to roll into me. She laid on her back in wanton abandon while batting at me with her paws. The nerve of that cheeky minx! I was horrified, tried to avert my gaze, and still she persisted. When I got up to remove myself, she again seized my leash and started pulling me. She even grabbed hold of my front leg! Fortunately, Grandma had the good sense to look down and see this spectacle unfold; however, she laughed out loud saying, “Oh Zoë, you clever little puss…look at you and Mason” as if I were a willing participant.

I had a good mind to cuff her but decided instead to take the high road. Oliver, their other cat, would never cross that boundary. He and I are close in age and in temperament, so that we have an innate understanding of one another. He respects my space and I his. Zoë needs a good lesson taught her, but she is still young and undeniably cute, for a feline that is.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

I am sleeping peacefully while little Miss Thing is alert and plotting her next move.

I am sleeping peacefully while little Miss Thing is alert and plotting her next move.

I like this because it shows her cunning nature and brazen look.

I like this because it shows her cunning nature and brazen look. Also, check out those eyes. They are just wrong!

Here you can how close she has gotten. I know it looks like I've moved but it is she who is encroaching my space.

Here you can see how close she has gotten. I know it looks like I've moved but it is she who is encroaching into my space.

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