A Different Kind of

A Different House Cat

Hybrid

Our son Bob brought us a kitten. We both have a soft spot for the little fellows. We could have a dozen of them.
This one was different. It is a hybrid, half Manx and half Siamese.
Her name is Kattie. Big blue eyes, milk chocolate in color, with the tan and black markings of the Siamese Dad. No tail like the Manx mother.
Kattie has no idea she is a cat. We were going to tell her when she got older. Now she is a year old and we can’t tell her. She would never believe it.
She is like no other cat I know. She doesn’t want to be held, don’t rub up on your legs, or get under your feet.
She will let you pet her when she wants to. This is not optional.
She hates cats. She will look at them if they are outside the window.
Kattie is strictly a house pet. She is afraid of the outside. She is traumatized each time you have to take her out.
She doesn’t need to talk. She can tell you what she wants and will lead you to it, if you don’t understand what she is telling you.
The other night was a real challenge. She would not shut up. In the kitchen was something she wanted. We went through the list of obvious things. Food-no-water-no-toys-no. Finally when she kept looking at the ceiling light, we saw a miller flying around. She hates bugs. When the miller was gone, she trotted off to do something else.
Kattie loves our son Bob. She is his alarm clock in the morning, and can’t wait to get him out of bed. She will cry and roll all over the floor until he says ok, get up in the window seat and I will pet you. With a snap of a finger, she trots off to the seat to get petted.
The rest of us try this and she just acts stupid. What do you mean snapping your fingers at me? She will only do this for Bob.
Recently Bob had to go to California for several days. Kattie moped around the house.
When he called home, we put him on the speaker phone. Kattie, from another room came running at the sound of his voice. Meow, meow, meow, trying to climb up my leg to get to Bob’s voice. When she could not find him on the phone, she looked all under the table, talking as she went, meow, meow, and meow. I told Bob that Kattie was trying to talk to him. He could not believe it. When I held the phone to her Bob said, hi Kattie, how is my baby? She meowed to him on the phone. This is true love.
When I cook a roast, turkey, or bar-b-que ribs, she just knows they are for her. She waits all day and tells you she is ready to eat them. The other day she just knew she wanted sour kraut and wieners. I tried to tell her, but she wouldn’t listen. So I let her have a plate of them. One smell, she blinked her eyes, laid back her ears and flew out of the kitchen.
So much for what Kattie knows. This is a four footed human and don’t try to tell her otherwise.