Tuesday, January 26, 2010


Mo had been Princess for about a year. She always played aggressively but it started to be a problem when she would bite me through heavy leather garden gloves. CAT-HINT: Never play with your cat when your hands are bare – the cat cannot differentiate between playtime and petting when they are energetic. Gloves will save your hands and patience. Remember, cats have a brain the size of a walnut; they don’t understand the abstract. Their teeth are sharp daggers intent on puncturing weak human skin. Use this hint with dogs, too.

I decided that she needed a pet, another cat. I searched a couple shelters when a co-worker mentioned that his cousin had some kittens to give away. I was happy. Eliza dropped off the wee kitten that was known as Dani, the day before Labor Day. Little did I know that I had just brought two pounds of dynamite into the house. Mo was beyond anger. I had to place Dani on the front porch for her own safety. I was afraid that Mo would kill the six week old ginger & white bandy-tailed kitten.

A few days earlier, a hurricane named Katrina caused utter devastation. I’ll fume about that at another time.

Thankfully, Dani loved the screened-in porch. She had furniture to crawl under, toys, litter box, food and water. She was content to be out there while I was at work. I would come home and visit her. We made a trip to the veterinarian and she was pronounced healthy. The weather was very mild so she was able to stay on the porch for a whole month and double in size.

I still provided affection to Mo but she would hiss every time I brought Dani into the house. The weather was turning towards autumn so Dani (who never responded to the name) was spending time in the house when I was home. Mo wasn’t happy but was learning that when she hissed at the kitten, water would come rushing her direction. Mo hates being sprayed with water more than she hated the kitten.

I procured a baby names book and started reading the list out loud. Dani didn’t respond until I said Zoë. I kept reading names and said Zoë again; she came running over. That is how she chose her name. The story of Zo – to be continued.

Gotta chase the cats.
(c) 2010

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