Here Kitty Kitty Kitty

After reading Admiral Pooper Scooper's post Traveling Man, it made me think about my own childhood. The fondest reflections I have are of my cats, specifically of T.T.

I love cats. I admire their sense of independence, their aloof nature and ability to lick themselves (except for the butt, I'd just drag my ass across the grass - not saw grass though - some nice soft, fresh grass, wet with dew - at least then I'd get a semi-washed cat butt.) I love their haughtiness; the way the approach you seeming to say "You may pet me now mere human, but don't touch my paws, I just did my nails on the back side of your couch."

I even had a cat rattle when I was a baby. I don't know what happened to it over the years, but I'll never forget when my brother Jay stepped on it and broke it. I was devastated. He killed my kitty. I think it was revenge for demolishing his castle that our parents put together brick by brick when we were smaller - but I digest.

My favorite cat of all time was T.T. Mom had a Siamese cat Treat, who got pregnant and had a litter of kittens by a random Tomcat (Mom of course, had a very stern talk/lecture with Treat soon afterwards about mating with every Tom, Dick and Furry cat) I don't remember how many she had, but I remember that it wasn't to much longer after she had them that she disappeared and we had a litter of kittens to look after. (I have always suspected that she was killed by a group of neighborhood dogs than ran the streets freely - obviously before leash laws) We eventually got rid of all but one, T.T. He was small, black with a white chest and one white claw. The movie E.T. was very big at the time, so that's what we named him, but T.T. was just easier to say. (Lazy southern tongue)

T.T. and I were inseparable. He would go walk in the woods and I would follow him. In amazing cat style, he would find the prefect spot with dappled shade and roll in the grass. I would lay next to him and we would listen to the wind blow and the crickets would sing to us. I'm not sure he cared for the singing though since he occasionally ate one.

In true kid form, I tortured him with loving cruelty. I would put him in a laundry basket and spin him around on the floor over and over again until he finally would struggle out and run drunkenly away. My Grandfather would come over occasionally and would treat us all to "The Ferris Wheel", where he would put one hand under his belly and the other behind his head and spin him around and around in the air. The whole family would giggle while protesting that he stop and we would all flock over to him with much "Oh you poor kitty" and the like while petting him on his furry drunk head. I would stretch my shirts out by pulling the hem of my shirt up and stuffing him in the pouch I made. I carried him around everywhere. I knew all the scratching and hissing weren't real and he had to love it as much as I did. (I was sooo smart)

We used to sleep together. I would lay on my back and he would drape himself over my head and doze. I'll never forget waking up from a dead sleep with one of his claws through my left eyelid. It seems he had been watching my eyes move during REM sleep and could resist. After that, he was no longer allowed on my head. I allotted one side of my twin bed for him. I had a sleep over once where my girl friend and I slept in the same bed and T.T. jumped up with us. I made her sleep in the 3 inch crack between the bed and the wall so T.T. could have his spot. (Yes we are still friends to this day - she seems to be a glutton for punishment)

He would curl up on me at any possible opportunity (hard to believe isn't it). If I was laying on the couch watching TV, he would jump up onto the small of my back and lay there with his feet tucked under him. How I remember those times! I would hold off going to the bathroom until I was ready to bust just I wouldn't have to make him get up.

One of my very fondest memories was when I was laying on my back in the living room and he jumped up onto my stomach, tucked his feet underneath him and went to sleep. I started giggling at something and he started bouncing up and down on my stomach. It made me laugh all the harder. He eventually got up and trotted away in disgust.

T.T. died when I was about 14. I still miss him.