blogs t r e t c h

between a roux and a bechamel

Friday, July 17, 2009

An Upstairs/Downstairs Affair

Aside from landslides bringing me down this morning, another really huge thing happened. HUGE. Let me start with a bit of history.

When we first moved into our Bloomingdale manse in October, we quickly noticed that there was a really pretty little kitty that lived, it seemed, on our back door step. She was there night and day, rain and shine. And she was, it became clearer and clearer, with kittens. (As in, knocked up.) I am a sucker of the highest degree, so, worried that she was spending all her time getting whatever residual warmth she could from our back door instead of hunting and scavenging like a good feral city cat should, I started to feed her. I had a box of food that Stinker had deemed inedible, so here and there I'd leave some out for Back Door Kitty.

It wasn't long before I came down one morning and Back Door Kitty was WAILING for my attention. She was pacing back and forth, meowing with all her might till I came out to see what was going on. She had brought me a present (the kind cats bring you, meaning, a dead mouse). She was effectively claiming me as her person. So I, being the aforementioned sucker that I am, started feeding her every morning. The kittens that she was carrying never materialized... which, of course, stressed me out. But she was an adolescent mother on the streets, I can't hold her accountable for whatever happened. So thus started my relationship with Back Door Kitty.

All the while, my inside kitty, Stinker, was dealing with her presence as well. At first they'd stare at each other through the glass, sometimes even doing inexplicably adorable things like each putting up a paw at the same time. I thought, oh! They like each other! Brilliant! But one day, I opened up the glass door, leaving only the grate in between them, and the chorus of hissing and snarling that resulted was one for the record books. I decided not to push the issue and keep them apart; Back Door Kitty is, after all, all sorts of feral and without any shots and pretty dirty and probably not the kind of girl I want sinking her claws into my Stinker. Literally -- I don't want her to scratch or bite him and give him anything. Regardless, we've carried on this routine; every morning I give Stinker a can of his expensive food (the only kind he'll eat, the snob), and give Back Door Kitty a can of whatever was on sale that week. They both express gratitude. Stinker cuddles up to me and spoons with me while I sleep. Back Door Kitty almost lets me get close enough to pet her. It's a nice little family, on two sides of the door.

So, this morning I fed the kids, and went outside to water my plants. Back Door Kitty did what she always does -- skidded away maintaining at least a foot between us, meowing as if to ask, what are you trying to pull, food lady? I went about my business, but I must have left the door ajar. Stinker -- whose greatest pleasure in life is sniffing around out of doors -- had stepped outside onto Back Door Kitty's perch. And when I turned around to go back inside, I found that she had joined him. They were engaged in a full on nuzzle fest. Neither made a peep. They were just sniffing and paling around and being friendly. All this time I thought they'd become enemies across class lines, when in fact, they'd developed a kinship. Fed by the same hand, these two appear to be rather fond of each other. It was really fucking cute.

Hopefully next time this happens, I'll have my camera on me. And I can use the blogging for it's purest purpose: posting pictures of my cat(s).


Blogger Cecily said...


11:18 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Sounds like the cat version of the 7th grade St. Marks dance

2:31 PM  
Anonymous jillian said...

such a sweet story!

2:52 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home