I was just sitting in my living room at the coffee table listening to the sound of the night outside my window, punctuated by a very soft, almost inaudible myowp from Amy Winehouse the cat about every 30 seconds. This particular myowp is never directed at me, but rather to the back wall in the kitchen. Ive no idea what it means, and when she does it Im always reminded of my old philosophy professor Peter Appleby quoting a famed philosopher as saying, Man knows man things, the wasp knows wasp things. Frank knows Frank things, and Amy Winehouse the cat knows Amy Winehouse the cat things. Speaking of her Highness, yesterday I ran across some photos of her taken in the country west of Springfield when she was one of five kittens abandoned by their mother in my old utility shed and busy with her brothers and sisters being extremely wild kittens in my garden. Amy was the oddest of all five because she was so independent and aloof. She never came to me begging for anything or looking for affection. Indeed, she almost never let me pet her and, unlike the other cats, would never, ever let me pick her up. If I did manage to pick her up she wouldnt scratch me but shed flail her paws wildly and cry out like a wounded coyote till I put her down. I think it was for this independence that I came to love her so dearly, and still do. I think my having her is a celebration simply of her being. Oh, what the heck. Heres one of the wild kitten pictures showing her with one of her two brothers.
Posted on: Thu, 03 Apr 2014 02:16:46 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015