| Biographical Non-Fiction posted April 19, 2022 |
  |
No kids just cats
On Being Cat Daddy
by Terry Broxson
Did you ever start out for someplace, but end up somewhere else? Let me explain how I became Cat Daddy and what it ultimately meant.
It was Holly Golightly that introduced me to Zoe. Holly was her Siamese cat that got stuck on my balcony. That event started everything. Zoe and I were married a year later. Holly was never asked if she approved of the marriage. That was a good thing. Holly did not like anybody but Zoe.
The week we returned from our honeymoon, I had to recover from a trip-induced illness. Holly welcomed me back by using my suitcase as her sandbox. That would not have been so bad... if I had unpacked it. That was expensive cat litter. Little did I know this episode was a mere preview of what was to come.
I remember a cold winter morning, as I stood with coffee in one hand, newspaper in the other, and wrapped in my favorite warm robe. I plopped down in my big leather chair, turned on my reading light, and quickly discovered I had plopped down in some fresh cat puke, causing a chain reaction.
"YOUR CAT!... JUST PUKED IN MY CHAIR! I SAT IN IT, CAUSING COFFEE TO SPILL ON ME AND THE NEWSPAPER!"
"Why are you telling me it's your chair."
The responsibilities for the care of a cat include: making sure that there is plenty of cat food, fresh water, a clean sandbox, plenty of toys, trips to the vet, hairballs, cat puke, and an occasional bath. I still have scars from one of those baths.
The cat also needs to be loved. The cat should sit in a lap and be petted while the cat purrs. Zoe loved cats. She decided it was her job to provide the love. The other responsibilities belonged to Cat Daddy.
If Zoe was the one who loved cats, why am I Cat Daddy? I had choices. I could make suggestions that Zoe does certain chores relative to the cat. This worked well if I suggested she feed the cat. Any other suggestion was called micromanaging her. Additional input on my part was upgraded to nagging.
It was really pretty simple. If I wanted things done daily in a certain way. If I wanted peace and harmony. If I wanted to stay married to this beautiful woman. I was Cat Daddy.
Zoe worked for a large bank that was constantly acquiring other banks. She became an effective manager integrating the new bank into the computer system of the acquiring bank. The job took her all over the world.
My job allowed me a great deal of freedom, freedom to be Cat Daddy.
When Holly Golightly was nine years old, she became sick. Zoe was working on a project in West Texas, and I had to take Holly to the vet. He said she had kidney failure and the smallest heart he had ever seen. Sadly, that may explain why this Siamese cat only had a love for Zoe.
I called Zoe and told her that Holly had died. We never had kids, but still, we lost an important member of the family. When Zoe got back home on Friday evening, she was very sad.
I said, "We are going out tomorrow morning and find another Siamese cat."
"No, I am not ready."
"You know you want another cat, and it can't hurt to look."
Our morning trip ended on a farm near the small town of Wilmer, south of Dallas. We found a litter of eight-week-old Siamese blue points, two girls and one boy. Zoe wanted a girl. She settled for two girls.
"What do you want to name these little ones?" I asked.
"Janet and Eloise."
"Really? Sounds like funny names for cats."
"It is the name of the two ladies I have been working with in West Texas, just sounds right to me."
Janet lived with us for sixteen years. Eloise only made it for twelve. Janet's namesake was charged with embezzlement that was discovered during the project. Zoe would say, "But she was such a sweet lady." So was the cat.
Zoe dabbled in physical fitness. She did things like tap dancing, yoga, bike riding, power walking, and the like, but activities just came and went. During a power walking dabble, she found two tabby cats about three months old. They were playing in an area called Turtle Creek near our townhouse.
Zoe brought them home. She said they were abandoned. Some thought she stole them from someone's yard. The only thing I knew for sure was they knew what a can opener was all about. She named them Oscar and Felix, the odd couple.
Zoe thought Felix was the reincarnation of Clark Gable...a real sexy cat. I didn't ask.
When Zoe would have some chicken from the Colonel, Oscar would fight her for every bite. She was convinced that one of the secret spices was catnip.
We now had four cats. I said, "Darling, that is the legal limit!"
We would have three cats, then two, then one, and then two. A two-year-old black tortie (some yellow mixed with a beautiful black coat) came to live with us in January 2002. She had been rescued by a group whose mission was to protect black cats from abuse during Halloween. The group named her Hallie.
A couple of weeks after we adopted her, the famous actress Hallie Berry became the first black woman to win the Oscar for an actress in a leading role. So, our Hallie became Miss Hallie Berry for her leading role in our life.
One more rescued cat would join our household. Zoe named her Lucy after Miss Lucille Ball because she was ditzy.
Hallie was the last cat to die in 2014. That year we decided it was time to downsize to a smaller home. When the new house was finished, Zoe turned seventy-one. She told her best friend, "You know my brain is fried." She did have some form of slow dementia.
She wanted a new cat. I was concerned that a new cat would outlive us. If I died first, it would be a problem for her to manage. I told her I had been Cat Daddy for over forty years, and I needed a break.
She agreed, but in the evening, with a glass of wine or a snifter of brandy, she would say, "Everything would be perfect if I just had a little cat to sit on my lap!"
So, what did it ultimately mean to be Cat Daddy? Zoe died of a heart attack on November 1, 2018. His biggest failure was that there was no little cat to set on her lap when she wanted it the most.
Did you ever start out for someplace, but end up somewhere else? Let me explain how I became Cat Daddy and what it ultimately meant.
It was Holly Golightly that introduced me to Zoe. Holly was her Siamese cat that got stuck on my balcony. That event started everything. Zoe and I were married a year later. Holly was never asked if she approved of the marriage. That was a good thing. Holly did not like anybody but Zoe.
The week we returned from our honeymoon, I had to recover from a trip-induced illness. Holly welcomed me back by using my suitcase as her sandbox. That would not have been so bad... if I had unpacked it. That was expensive cat litter. Little did I know this episode was a mere preview of what was to come.
I remember a cold winter morning, as I stood with coffee in one hand, newspaper in the other, and wrapped in my favorite warm robe. I plopped down in my big leather chair, turned on my reading light, and quickly discovered I had plopped down in some fresh cat puke, causing a chain reaction.
"YOUR CAT!... JUST PUKED IN MY CHAIR! I SAT IN IT, CAUSING COFFEE TO SPILL ON ME AND THE NEWSPAPER!"
"Why are you telling me it's your chair."
The responsibilities for the care of a cat include: making sure that there is plenty of cat food, fresh water, a clean sandbox, plenty of toys, trips to the vet, hairballs, cat puke, and an occasional bath. I still have scars from one of those baths.
The cat also needs to be loved. The cat should sit in a lap and be petted while the cat purrs. Zoe loved cats. She decided it was her job to provide the love. The other responsibilities belonged to Cat Daddy.
If Zoe was the one who loved cats, why am I Cat Daddy? I had choices. I could make suggestions that Zoe does certain chores relative to the cat. This worked well if I suggested she feed the cat. Any other suggestion was called micromanaging her. Additional input on my part was upgraded to nagging.
It was really pretty simple. If I wanted things done daily in a certain way. If I wanted peace and harmony. If I wanted to stay married to this beautiful woman. I was Cat Daddy.
Zoe worked for a large bank that was constantly acquiring other banks. She became an effective manager integrating the new bank into the computer system of the acquiring bank. The job took her all over the world.
My job allowed me a great deal of freedom, freedom to be Cat Daddy.
When Holly Golightly was nine years old, she became sick. Zoe was working on a project in West Texas, and I had to take Holly to the vet. He said she had kidney failure and the smallest heart he had ever seen. Sadly, that may explain why this Siamese cat only had a love for Zoe.
I called Zoe and told her that Holly had died. We never had kids, but still, we lost an important member of the family. When Zoe got back home on Friday evening, she was very sad.
I said, "We are going out tomorrow morning and find another Siamese cat."
"No, I am not ready."
"You know you want another cat, and it can't hurt to look."
Our morning trip ended on a farm near the small town of Wilmer, south of Dallas. We found a litter of eight-week-old Siamese blue points, two girls and one boy. Zoe wanted a girl. She settled for two girls.
"What do you want to name these little ones?" I asked.
"Janet and Eloise."
"Really? Sounds like funny names for cats."
"It is the name of the two ladies I have been working with in West Texas, just sounds right to me."
Janet lived with us for sixteen years. Eloise only made it for twelve. Janet's namesake was charged with embezzlement that was discovered during the project. Zoe would say, "But she was such a sweet lady." So was the cat.
Zoe dabbled in physical fitness. She did things like tap dancing, yoga, bike riding, power walking, and the like, but activities just came and went. During a power walking dabble, she found two tabby cats about three months old. They were playing in an area called Turtle Creek near our townhouse.
Zoe brought them home. She said they were abandoned. Some thought she stole them from someone's yard. The only thing I knew for sure was they knew what a can opener was all about. She named them Oscar and Felix, the odd couple.
Zoe thought Felix was the reincarnation of Clark Gable...a real sexy cat. I didn't ask.
When Zoe would have some chicken from the Colonel, Oscar would fight her for every bite. She was convinced that one of the secret spices was catnip.
We now had four cats. I said, "Darling, that is the legal limit!"
We would have three cats, then two, then one, and then two. A two-year-old black tortie (some yellow mixed with a beautiful black coat) came to live with us in January 2002. She had been rescued by a group whose mission was to protect black cats from abuse during Halloween. The group named her Hallie.
A couple of weeks after we adopted her, the famous actress Hallie Berry became the first black woman to win the Oscar for an actress in a leading role. So, our Hallie became Miss Hallie Berry for her leading role in our life.
One more rescued cat would join our household. Zoe named her Lucy after Miss Lucille Ball because she was ditzy.
Hallie was the last cat to die in 2014. That year we decided it was time to downsize to a smaller home. When the new house was finished, Zoe turned seventy-one. She told her best friend, "You know my brain is fried." She did have some form of slow dementia.
She wanted a new cat. I was concerned that a new cat would outlive us. If I died first, it would be a problem for her to manage. I told her I had been Cat Daddy for over forty years, and I needed a break.
She agreed, but in the evening, with a glass of wine or a snifter of brandy, she would say, "Everything would be perfect if I just had a little cat to sit on my lap!"
So, what did it ultimately mean to be Cat Daddy? Zoe died of a heart attack on November 1, 2018. His biggest failure was that there was no little cat to set on her lap when she wanted it the most.
It was Holly Golightly that introduced me to Zoe. Holly was her Siamese cat that got stuck on my balcony. That event started everything. Zoe and I were married a year later. Holly was never asked if she approved of the marriage. That was a good thing. Holly did not like anybody but Zoe.
The week we returned from our honeymoon, I had to recover from a trip-induced illness. Holly welcomed me back by using my suitcase as her sandbox. That would not have been so bad... if I had unpacked it. That was expensive cat litter. Little did I know this episode was a mere preview of what was to come.
I remember a cold winter morning, as I stood with coffee in one hand, newspaper in the other, and wrapped in my favorite warm robe. I plopped down in my big leather chair, turned on my reading light, and quickly discovered I had plopped down in some fresh cat puke, causing a chain reaction.
"YOUR CAT!... JUST PUKED IN MY CHAIR! I SAT IN IT, CAUSING COFFEE TO SPILL ON ME AND THE NEWSPAPER!"
"Why are you telling me it's your chair."
The responsibilities for the care of a cat include: making sure that there is plenty of cat food, fresh water, a clean sandbox, plenty of toys, trips to the vet, hairballs, cat puke, and an occasional bath. I still have scars from one of those baths.
The cat also needs to be loved. The cat should sit in a lap and be petted while the cat purrs. Zoe loved cats. She decided it was her job to provide the love. The other responsibilities belonged to Cat Daddy.
If Zoe was the one who loved cats, why am I Cat Daddy? I had choices. I could make suggestions that Zoe does certain chores relative to the cat. This worked well if I suggested she feed the cat. Any other suggestion was called micromanaging her. Additional input on my part was upgraded to nagging.
It was really pretty simple. If I wanted things done daily in a certain way. If I wanted peace and harmony. If I wanted to stay married to this beautiful woman. I was Cat Daddy.
Zoe worked for a large bank that was constantly acquiring other banks. She became an effective manager integrating the new bank into the computer system of the acquiring bank. The job took her all over the world.
My job allowed me a great deal of freedom, freedom to be Cat Daddy.
When Holly Golightly was nine years old, she became sick. Zoe was working on a project in West Texas, and I had to take Holly to the vet. He said she had kidney failure and the smallest heart he had ever seen. Sadly, that may explain why this Siamese cat only had a love for Zoe.
I called Zoe and told her that Holly had died. We never had kids, but still, we lost an important member of the family. When Zoe got back home on Friday evening, she was very sad.
I said, "We are going out tomorrow morning and find another Siamese cat."
"No, I am not ready."
"You know you want another cat, and it can't hurt to look."
Our morning trip ended on a farm near the small town of Wilmer, south of Dallas. We found a litter of eight-week-old Siamese blue points, two girls and one boy. Zoe wanted a girl. She settled for two girls.
"What do you want to name these little ones?" I asked.
"Janet and Eloise."
"Really? Sounds like funny names for cats."
"It is the name of the two ladies I have been working with in West Texas, just sounds right to me."
Janet lived with us for sixteen years. Eloise only made it for twelve. Janet's namesake was charged with embezzlement that was discovered during the project. Zoe would say, "But she was such a sweet lady." So was the cat.
Zoe dabbled in physical fitness. She did things like tap dancing, yoga, bike riding, power walking, and the like, but activities just came and went. During a power walking dabble, she found two tabby cats about three months old. They were playing in an area called Turtle Creek near our townhouse.
Zoe brought them home. She said they were abandoned. Some thought she stole them from someone's yard. The only thing I knew for sure was they knew what a can opener was all about. She named them Oscar and Felix, the odd couple.
Zoe thought Felix was the reincarnation of Clark Gable...a real sexy cat. I didn't ask.
When Zoe would have some chicken from the Colonel, Oscar would fight her for every bite. She was convinced that one of the secret spices was catnip.
We now had four cats. I said, "Darling, that is the legal limit!"
We would have three cats, then two, then one, and then two. A two-year-old black tortie (some yellow mixed with a beautiful black coat) came to live with us in January 2002. She had been rescued by a group whose mission was to protect black cats from abuse during Halloween. The group named her Hallie.
A couple of weeks after we adopted her, the famous actress Hallie Berry became the first black woman to win the Oscar for an actress in a leading role. So, our Hallie became Miss Hallie Berry for her leading role in our life.
One more rescued cat would join our household. Zoe named her Lucy after Miss Lucille Ball because she was ditzy.
Hallie was the last cat to die in 2014. That year we decided it was time to downsize to a smaller home. When the new house was finished, Zoe turned seventy-one. She told her best friend, "You know my brain is fried." She did have some form of slow dementia.
She wanted a new cat. I was concerned that a new cat would outlive us. If I died first, it would be a problem for her to manage. I told her I had been Cat Daddy for over forty years, and I needed a break.
She agreed, but in the evening, with a glass of wine or a snifter of brandy, she would say, "Everything would be perfect if I just had a little cat to sit on my lap!"
So, what did it ultimately mean to be Cat Daddy? Zoe died of a heart attack on November 1, 2018. His biggest failure was that there was no little cat to set on her lap when she wanted it the most.
 Recognized |
|
Cat Daddy reading the newspaper with (L to R) Felix, Janet, Oscar.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. 
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2024. Terry Broxson All rights reserved.
Terry Broxson has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
