Hi everyone,
Please find below a guest post by Marilyn Armstrong from SERENDIPITY
Long ago in a land far away, we had a Siamese cat. Mao — “cat” in Chinese. I don’t know if that’s Mandarin, Cantonese or some other dialect, but it was a good name.
We got Mao as a tiny kitten. From day one, he was a feisty, chatty cat. He was also our first cat, which his name reflected. Mao Ee (Cat 1). There were, of course, many more cats over the decades, in all the houses in I’ve called home (except this one where it has been only dogs). Regardless, there was never another cat like Mao.
When we traveled, friends took care of our house. I was a great grower of plants back then. Feeding the cats was one part of the job … but watering the 200 plus plants was — or should have been — the bigger task. Frank — best friend’s husband — was often tasked with house care in our absence. Mao was a thinking cat. A logical cat. He decided we were gone because Frank had driven us away. If Mao could drive Frank away, we would come home.
Therefore, when Frank came to the house to feed and water cats and plants, Mao attacked him. I don’t mean a little pounce, a playful swat. It was all out warfare. Mao crouched in shadows and attacked, all 20 claws outstretched, going for gore. Poor Frank loved cats and he and Mao had always gotten along fine. He had no idea why Mao was out to get him.
The moment we came back, Mao was back to normal, friend to the world. He had obviously been right. We were back … ergo, it must have been because he drove The Invader (Frank) away. Logical, yes?
After that, Mao attacked everyone who took care of the house in our absence. He was the terror of Our Crowd. It got increasingly difficult to get someone to take care of things while we were gone.
The years moved on and Mao moved with us. There were children, jobs, bigger houses, dogs. Life. We held celebrations … big Thanksgiving dinners. One memorable occasion, we had a full house including a dozen and half people and featuring a huge turkey. When the turkey was roasted, I put it out on the counter to set while I moved food in the dining room and greeted arriving guests.
I wasn’t gone 10 minutes. When I got back to the kitchen, Mao was on the counter, finishing off a drumstick. Its remains were still attached to the turkey — a ragged, conspicuously gnawed hole. Not the presentation I had in mind.
The husband and I consulted. We agreed and served the bird as it was.
“What happened to the turkey,” asked friends and family.
“Mao got it,” I said.
“Oh,” they said. “Pass the bird.”
It was a good Thanksgiving. Mao was some cat.
This post first appeared on SERENDIPITY
I love when cats And their reputation becomes part of folk law. Cheers,H
Such a gorgeous cat so beautiful. My dad bought me a Siamese when I was 13 he was such a character just like Mao. x
I love Siamese cats.
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Oh my goodness Mao sounds like a nightmare to catsit. What a lovely post and what a gorgeous animal.
Glad you liked it 🙂
Oh yes thank you ❤️
You were right–Mao cat 1 was sure if he drove the caretaker away you would come home. That’s what our precious Rocky did when he was grieving for his lost Rosie–we could not introduce another cat even a kitten because he was sure the newcomer would keep Rosie from coming home. It took a year before he accepted a companion cat.
Glad Rocky accepted the new comer in the end. It’s not easy to introduce a new cat to the family.