The Hell-Cat of Mesa

My friend, Anita Marie, is an talented writer, and she has inspired me again:

http://anita64.wordpress.com/2007/05/12/insanity-jones/#comment-2121

Anita love, thank you again and always!

This is the tale of how the family’s cat, Kliban, came to join us; for everyone except us he was a terror on dainty cream-coloured paws.  Small children wept in terror at the sight of him, dogs climbed trees to escape his wrath, and adults begged us to keep him inside when they were out, so they could go about their business unmolested by 35 pounds of pure meanness. 

Once upon a time, when Mesa was a quiet family town, a family, not too different from the rest, accidentally acquired a cat.  Not just any cat, one that had sorrowful and miserable beginnings.

This cat, actually a half-grown, 3/4 wild kitten, was adopted to the family’s next-door neighbour, along with a springer spaniel, and chocolate lab puppy for her toddler aged daughters.  This was an excellent arrangement for everyone but the kitten.

Bad enough to have been the shameful result of a mesalliance between a Siamese mother, and marmalade tabby alley cat father.  But then to be thrust into a household with small children, who delighted in pulling his tail and ears; and two playful puppies that insisted on drowning his feline dignity in friendly sl0bber.

The poor little guy, he was called ‘Kitty-Gato’, he was homely, and out of place in what was supposed to be his home.  He did what any self-respecting feline would do about being mauled so thoughtlessly, he unsheathed his claws.

He was quickly called, “Mean.” and became a Cattus Non Grata in his own home.  He was tossed into an alley and promptly discarded from family memory.

Poor Kitty-Gato, abandoned, hurt and confused as to why he was evicted; struggled to eke out some existence in the shadows and alleys of that part of town.

He was tough, fearless and mean as a fighter, undeniable as a lover, and looking for the love a human being again (for he remembered petting).

He made it through the summer, an impressive feat in weather that is consistently over 100 and even 110 degrees F., life was getting a tad easier for him, as he had caught the eye of several nests of humans that left food out for him.  Still he had not found ‘his’ family and place.

One day, he heard a soft pop, a terrible sting between his eyes and the sound of mean laughter.  He wasn’t badly wounded, just a scrape  following the curve of his skull.

A few days later he was feeling sickly, his head was throbbing, too hot and heavy to carry properly, and he felt the infection was starting to spread from the scrape through his blood.

He went to one of the nests of humans he visited and cried for help.  These humans were wiser than many about cats and called him into their nest.  One of the older females said, “You can’t leave him out in this weather Pat.”

Pat agreed and called him to a dish of warm, tasty food, diced to bite sized pieces for him.  He ate a few bites, and then went to where the humans were eating the very same thing he had been given.

He went to the older female and asked her to get the nasty-sickness-stuff off his face.  He was delighted at the understanding in this nest, and stayed by the humans, just enjoying their combined energies.

The nasty-sickness-stuff started running down his face again and he went to the older female to ask her to take it away again.  She turned to a younger female and scolded her as she wiped the mess from his face again.

The younger female lifted him into her arms and looked closely at his head.  He felt her her heart send him a rush of love and healing.  She took him to another room and washed his head and the wound gently, making sure that they got as much of the nasty-sickness-stuff out of him as possible.

If that weren’t a wonder enough in his short span of life then, the humans left their nest and came back with something their hearts told him would drive the sickness from his blood and head. 

Without complaint or fight he accepted the tickly-fizzy water on the scrape after they had cleaned it out, then they packed the sickness-killing dust into the wound and snuggled him close and made their purring at him.

He knew at that moment that he had found his people and place, and his heart swelled to hold all of the people now precious to him.  Heady with acceptance and love he relaxed in safety, and groomed himself glossy, before napping on a soft chair and aweakening later to more of the humans’ food in a dish for him, with milk to drink and cool clean water.

He recovered quickly, and defended his territory and humans with all the courage of his Siamese forbears.  One cool day, the younger female human that had rescued him was visiting with his former human female, and the former female remarked something to his new female, who immediately smelled of battle-anger and snarled something back to his former human.

The former human backed a step away, accepting his new female’s claim of territory and partnership with him.  At that moment he was irrevocably bound forever to his new family, there would never be any human that could take their place in his heart.

He wore his new name, Kliban, with pride for his family had chosen it for him.  His home almost always had someone that would pet or snuggle him, he often ate the same food as they, as well as his own food.

Though his humans changed nests more than once he went with them, and forged a new territory wherever they were.  He spent a long and happy life with one or the other of the humans, even the she-kitten of one of his humans after she joined them.

Yes, Kliban was named after the artist B. Kliban who made his Cat famous at the same time as our Kliban.  Below is one of the family’s favourite Kliban Cats: