by David Kubicek
I love animal cartoons, especially when they involve cats and dogs. Having been a pet human of several cats and dogs, I recognize that every good dog or cat cartoon is based on a truth about that particular animal’s personality. This is the first of two (or three?) character sketches of cats and dogs that I’ve known.
WHISKERS
Whiskers was a blue-eyed gray and white kitten who was given to us by someone who found him abandoned in an alley when he was five months old. We had a black Lab named Kabella, and we were told to separate the two of them for a while so they would get used to each other’s scents.
We used “toddler gates” left over from when our son was a toddler to block off doorways and keep the animals apart. Whiskers, as cats will do, ignored those boundaries–this is one of the cat character traits that gave rise to the old saying: “Curiosity killed the cat.” So those first few nights, my wife and I would be awakened often by a low growl coming from Kabella, who was sleeping on the floor beside our bed–Whiskers had jumped over the gate and was exploring the dog’s turf.
THE “GODFATHER” OF THE NEIGHBORHOOD
Whiskers survived those first crucial days and came to dominate the household. Once when I let Kabella out the back door at 6 a.m. to do her business, Whiskers was sitting in the garden courting a kitty who sat atop the six-foot wooden fence that surrounded the yard. Kabella saw the strange kitty and took off barking across the yard. The kitty leaped off the fence and was gone. Whiskers, annoyed, glanced over his shoulder at the charging dog. When she came within range, Whiskers reached out calmly and swatted Kabella’s face. The dog stopped abruptly and was silent. She gave her head a quick shake, glanced around in confusion, and wandered off.
Kabella wasn’t hurt because Whiskers had no claws on his front feet. But Whiskers had delivered his message. He’d told the dog, in no uncertain terms, to chill out.
Being clawless on his front paws was not an inconvenience. Whiskers could easily and quickly scale the back fence. We would often see him sitting atop one of the posts surveying his territory. When he got tired of sitting he would jump down on the other side and go prowling about the neighborhood. He actually became the Lord of the neighborhood, the “Godfather” of cats, if you will–even other tough Tom cats bowed to his prowess. Despite his lack of claws, he could still catch mice and other small animals. After one successful hunt I learned that cats hold grudges.
One time I opened the back door to let Whiskers in and found a dead mouse lying at my feet. Whiskers looked like he would burst because he was so proud of the gift he’d presented to me. But unthinkingly, I spurned it. I threw it in the trash, and Whiskers walked around in a huff for the rest of the day.
A PILLAR OF STRENGTH
In the living room there was a ledge at the top of the stairs that led down to the basement. Whiskers liked to sleep on that ledge. One time in his sleep he rolled over and plummeted 15 feet to the basement floor. We rushed to the ledge in alarm and peered over the ledge. Whiskers was standing, looking around sheepishly. The only thing injured was his pride. Apparently, there is some truth to the old saying that cats always land on their feet.
Whiskers stayed strong and flexible until the end of his life. When he was 90 in human years, he could still jump up on the kitchen cabinet, and from there to the top of the refrigerator, and finally to the top of the kitchen cupboard where he would relax and survey his territory. I’d be ecstatic if I could jump up on top of the kitchen cupboard when I’m 90. I have little hope of that happening, though. It is a challenge for me now to climb up into the cab of an F-150 pickup truck.
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