Evans “Buddy” King
Columnist
Scarlett the Cat here. Apologies to my readers for not having written a column recently. The Boarder controls the typing machine and hasn’t given me access in months. Thankfully when he left for work today, he left it out with the keyboard open and here I am.
I thought I would write on a recent disgrace in our house. We forgot to celebrate National Tortoiseshell Cat Day last month – it was April 17. My feelings were hurt, of course, even though I didn’t know that this observance existed until the Boarder told me. After he brought it up and apologized, I walked around the home that I let him share with me and gave him quite the scolding. And when he turned his back to leave a room or walk up the stairs, I jumped on the back of his legs and sank my claws and teeth in. I pretty much treated him like any other day in other words.
The Boarder told me that “National Tortoiseshell Cat Day” was not yet official, that whatever sanctioning body that handles these things hasn’t gotten around to getting done whatever needs to get done. Shame on them.
I looked up April 17 and the “days” that seem to have achieved “official” status are numerous and odd. On this day, we recognize National Banana Day (okay, I don’t like them and the Boarder seems only to buy them to throw out after three days, but I’ll give them a day), Herbalist Day (not bad I guess if your name is Herb, but how many Herbs do you know ?), National Cheeseball Day (better than bananas with the right dipping sauce, but do you think cheeseballs really care ?), and, get ready here, National Bat Appreciation Day ?!? Get real. Bats get an official day and my kind is still waiting?
The Boarder tells me that the bat species is endangered – hope we torties don’t have to go to that extent to get the recognition we so richly deserve. He also tells me that based on his experience in his old house in Bridgeport, the rumors of their extinction may be greatly exaggerated. But think about it – one of the ugliest creatures God ever created, one most known for landing in peoples’ hair and screeching, has its own day, and the lovely, intelligent tortoiseshell is bogged down in some sort of bureaucratic validation process?
So far, and by so far I mean until my kind is recognized, the most significant “Day” on April 17 is “National Ellis Island Family History Day.” The Boarder tells me that he traced his own King family back to Ellis Island entry – I told him it was probably on a prison ship. I also let him know his social status when I told him that MY ancestors came over on the Mayflower, albeit below deck and to kill rodents, but nonetheless a more auspicious arrival in the New World than his.
I did some reading up before writing this piece. I’m not like the Boarder, who never lets facts get in the way of a good story. I read that we torties are not really a breed, that we are just the result of a genetic mutation that carries certain characteristics. First and most prominent are the beautiful coats we have – mainly black with patches of brown and orange and amber. The Boarder said I had him “at orange.” I notice a lot of his clothes are that color.
We torties are sort of the negative image of the calico, black where they are white. Like calicos we are almost totally female, one in only 3,000 or so of each of us being male. Who knew? I thought it’s been hard to meet a nice guy.
Other characteristics they put on us are that we have “attitudes” (some call it “tortitude”)and that we are feisty and short-tempered at times (show me a cat who isn’t when its feeder is unresponsive or does something else out of line like not scratching behind your ears when you need it), but we are also known for being very loving and possessive of our boarders. Sort of the “gingers” of the cat world. They also say we bring good luck – I told the Boarder he got all the luck he needed when he found me. Ha! Some say we also bring money to a household, but I told the Boarder not to hold his breath.
I used to call my column “A Cat of a Certain Age”, piggybacking (there’s another animal that has its “Day” – March 1 – in fact there’s even a “National Pigs-in-Blanket Day” – April 24) on the column of a former editor of this paper who wrote an occasional piece under the byline of “A Man of a Certain Age.”
I think it’s time for a change – I’m going to call my contributions the writings of “A Cat of a Certain Attitude.”
