Because of our large yard, we are often at the plant nursery and at one such nursery a decade ago we played with a batch of kittens that had barely began their lives of investigation away from their mom. One of the kittens, a little calico, was a free spirit - she did her thing and did not follow the crowd. I could not stop thinking about that kitten and a few days later I stopped by the nursery on my way home from work and brought Maris home. Karen and the girls were perplexed. Roger Maris is my favorite baseball player and the only player to legitimately hold the season home run record; Maris was the best cat ever and the only cat to legitimately hold the top cat spot in my heart.
Maris loved us, LOVED TO PLAY, loved to be where ever we were, and never quit being different. Maris was really a little boy stuck in a cat's body, except that she did eat vegetables - especially red bell peppers. I am pretty sure she often said, "Hey, what are you doin,' can I do it too, hunh, please, hunh?"
Maris was fond of lemon yogurt, my favorite flavor too. I wish Maris was still around to enjoy a cup of yogurt together and yak about ball. She could really chase a well-rolled ball (or nickel coin, she just loved the game).
We have and have had a string of cats, all named after baseball players. Rog (the feminine of Roger) came along about a year after Maris and is a very good pal. Satch (short for Satchel) is mellow, a bit of a whiner, and a good companion, but we found him in our yard as a very little kitten who was probably thrown there and he has not ever put those issues behind him. Yogi wandered in when Karen's dad lived with us, but was not with us long. Buddy from next door adopted us and rarely went home (who would have - our neighbors are another story). Black kitty was a wild neighborhood cat who often slept in our carport or under the sequoia. Then finally there is Paige (Satchel Paige would have been one of the most renown baseball players of all time had he not spent most of his looong career in the Negro Leagues).
Paige is no Maris. In all fairness, Paige was a young teen mother who delivered a litter in a hollowed tree in our yard. Her boys were Jackie and Frank (the Robinsons of baseball lore) who went to live with friends in the Gorge. Paige has had a long transition to being part of the family from the outdoors of her youth and is really a pretty good kid, all things considered. But she has a will, a strong will that got her banned from the vet for some time. The first attempt at a capture and vet trip to be be spayed literally cost me a pound of flesh and considerable damage to our bedroom, where the final battle of the wills took place. I warned the vet in no uncertain terms that she could not be released from her carrier prior to sedation - they thought they knew better and payed a considerable price for their professional arrogance. We administered a potion in her food the next time she had to go - a trick she fell for only once. There has only been one, count it, one time when I was able to grab her by the nape and put her in a carrier like a cat.
Over the last few months Karen has agonized over the delay in Paige's overdue shots and planned how each Saturday was going to be THE day she goes. This morning Karen was able to grab her, but it was in a torso hold which works up to the point that Paige realizes the intended destination and then it becomes a very dangerous hold. As I pulled out the new cat carrier Paige took Karen down, I had no choice but to attempt the same torso hold as I took her from Karen and put her in the carrier - Paige took me down as well. Paige will not be going to the vet today and we need a new tube of neosporin.
Maris misses you too, Jim. I just know it.
ReplyDeleteWe were thrilled but also confused when Jim brought a box home one Friday afternoon during our senior year in high school, tipped it gently over, and out popped a tiny calico kitten. I was even more perplexed the next day when I came out of my room to find Jim laying on the floor in his underwear, playing with tiny Maris. I thought he hated cats! They were inseparable ever since until the day she left us to go to kitty heaven, where I know she's waiting for our someday joyful reunion. She'll still like him best there, though. That I know for sure.
Maris was the neatest kitty ever. Even though she was a persnickety old broad in her later years. My favorite Maris memory: the Christmas she got The Bird. Remember that toy bird that hung on the door by an elastic cord and made squeaky sounds? Maris left actual sweat puddles on the floor, she was playing so hard! I remember her toppling over and panting from the exertion, but still up and back at that bird every time it squeaked. Best Christmas ever!
ReplyDeleteI'll never forget Christmas with The Bird. That was our first Christmas with Maris, so she was still a kitten. She flopped over on the hardwood floor with her tongue out, a sheen of sweat surrounding her furry little body. But only for a second, because that maddening parrot toy was just out of reach, mocking her! Oh, what I would give to rewind those years for one more moment with Maris and her new toy!
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