We’ve had two cats, James and Panther. James, a golden tabby, was the lover cat. He sought you out for love. He shamelessly rolled on his back, begging for a belly rub. Each summer when time flowed long and slow, I would occasionally indulge in the experiment of finding out how much belly-rubbing he needed to be sated. I would sit down beside him with the intention of rubbing his belly until he got up and walked away It never happened. Every time, the experiment ended with me getting up 15-30 minutes later with James still sprawled there loving it. James reminded me of a calf roper who throws the lasso down right where the calf is about to step. James would trot ahead of me when I was walking and roll onto his back right where I intended to step. If I stepped awkwardly around him, he would roll to his feet and run ahead and repeat within a few steps.
Panther, a well-named black cat, was spookily opposite. He always kept his distance. Panther was yellow eyes watching from up in the tree, on top of the shed, always some place 20 or so feet away. Usually he would bolt if you even took one step towards him. Maybe once a month he would approach me when I was sitting and allow a few seconds of petting before suddenly slipping away. James died last month, probably of old age though there was no dwindling. We found him laying out beneath the tree. Panther was very upset. He approached us, a steady low mournful yowling, seeking consolation of petting. Since then, Panther has become James. Ceaseless, shameless calf-roping seeker of belly rubs at any and all times.
Leave a Reply