It's a Great Life: The monster I've created

Features Editor
Published Sunday, July 07, 2002


Well, I don't have James, but I do have Purrcee at 10, and he's turned into quite a pain in the neck. For those of you not familiar with Purrcee, he's the family feline.

Lately, I have not needed an alarm clock. It seems that Purrcee's internal alarm goes off anywhere between 4 and 5:30 a.m. - that's in the morning, in case you didn't catch it the first time.

This internal alarm brings with it the urge to eat IMMEDIATELY, not in five minutes, not in three minutes, but IMMEDIATELY.

If I do not respond to his demand IMMEDIATELY, I first get a paw - claws extended, of course - under the pillow where one of my arms is innocently resting.

So, I move my hand further under the pillow thinking that will stop that.

It never does.

If I do not respond IMMEDIATELY, the next step is to camp on my feet. Granted, it's not as bad as it used to be. At his best fighting weight, Purrcee was 23 pounds. He's now slimmed down to 17, thanks to daily doses of diet feline food from his physician's office.

Anyway, after sitting on my feet for several seconds, if there is no action on my part to rise from the bed and IMMEDIATELY go to feed him, the next step is to bite my leg, ankle or whatever is exposed.

In my stupor, I'm not always able to respond in the way I'd like to that act and I usually end up swinging in air - or, as the case was the other day - making contact, but discovering that contact has no influence whatsoever upon the little hairy black guy.

As anyone who is owned by a cat knows, a cat will do what he or she wants to do when he or she wants to do it and where he or she wishes to do it.

Anyway, if biting my ankles and legs or whatever doesn't produce the desired results, he resorts to the cat's greatest threat - the threat of tossing up a hairball.

Just that sound, and I'm on my feet, tissue or paper towel in hand faster than you can say "don't!"

As if that's not bad enough, lately Purrcee has returned to his kitten ways.

Toys and my husband, You Know Who's socks that just happen to be sticking out of the sock drawer - or not - are found throughout the living room and dining room areas.

But a couple Saturdays ago was the absolute limit.

My friend, Nettie Ruth, is not a cat fan. Face it, she doesn't really care for cats - and unfortunately, Purrcee knows it.

So, as Nettie and I were sitting on the couch, visiting, Purrcee suddenly bounded up on my chest, using said chest as a spring board to get to the back of the couch.

Strolling across the back, he stopped to check out Nettie's hair.

"Oh, great," I thought to myself. "That's all I need." At times, you see, Purrcee likes to groom someone other than himself, and hairspray seems to be a favorite.

"Purrcee!" I requested as loudly as I could. "Get away from her!"

He didn't do it at my request, but luckily he'd just stopped to smell the roses - or hairspray - as it were, and he was soon descending from the back of the sofa.

So, Nettie and I tried to carry on a normal conversation.

But, in the middle of our discussion, I heard "bam, bam," as my little darling decided to hit the shower curtain which was protecting the new white tablecloth I'd bought for an upcoming special occasion and was trying to protect from little black hairs.

"Purrcee!" I loudly requested. "Stop that!"

Of course he didn't at that precise moment, but several moments later the action ceased.

Apparently, he'd decided he'd been obnoxious enough for the occasion, and it was time to rest.

He's such a little brat! Don't you just love it?

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