RIVER CITY JOURNAL: CAT OWNERSHIP OFFERS NO MULTIPLE CHOICES

The cat still has no name, but in just five months she has become queen of the house, ruler of the two full-time occupants and empress of all she surveys.

How did she do that?

Cats have a way of taking over. That's why some people hate cats. They can't stand to be under the sway of an animal.

It's not so bad, really. The cat decides when you sleep, when you eat and when you play. This tight schedule is woven around the cat's own timetable for sleeping, eating and playing. A time-management analyst might be surprised that the cat sleeps nearly 24 hours a day but still finds time to eat and play. There is a lesson here for humans, who tend to overdo everything and fret unceasingly.

The cat has grown enormously large since being rescued from Death Row at the pound. But she has her scruples. She eats only the dry cat food that can be purchased only from a veterinarian. You like to think it is good for the cat, and you only give her the recommended portions. The cat, in return, cleans her plate and refuses to eat anything else, including the treats you bought or table scraps she begs you to give her.

A tiny, cat-size bite of chicken becomes a feline hockey puck on the kitchen floor. She treats the people food like some curiosity from another planet, batting it around and chasing it.

The cat has no name, because nothing seems to stick, except her needle-sharp claws in everything she touches. At one time you decided to call her Velcro. Then you had the vet trim her claws. Now she only sticks part of the time.

Your wife suggested Curiosikitty, because she wants to investigate everything, including the shower when the water is running. After her one and only bath experience in the tub, you might think she would avoid the bathroom like the plague.

Another suggested name was Fat Cat, because she waddles when she walks and because she rarely stands on all four feet more than a few seconds at a time. Her usual position is lying half on one side with her feet tucked underneath, leading to another name idea: Harbor Seal, because that's what she looks like.

The cat's favorite toy is a knotted ribbon with some frayed strings at the end. She loves to chase it. Well, she jumps a couple of times, grunting loudly, before collapsing into the resting seal position, where she waits for you to bring the ribbon to her. If you don't volunteer to dangle the ribbon, she goes to wherever it is on the floor and lies down on it. This is body language at its best.

One morning this week the cat's food dish was empty at breakfast. First she sat by the dish. Next she stood by the dish and looked at it for a long time, occasionally peeking over her shoulder to make sure you were aware of her plight. Then she made the ultimate body-language move: She draped her body across the empty disk and laid down, hanging her head at about half-mast as if she were too hungry to hold it up.

Pitiful.

When your wife picked up the dish, which has a water bowl attached, the cat's spirits revived. Your wife filled up the water and put the dish back on the floor. The cat pranced eagerly in that direction. Imagine her surprise when the cat saw the food dish was still empty. If a cat could give a burning look, you both would be singed.

The cat walked over to the cabinet door behind which is kept the bag of high-priced dry food. The cat who rarely meows (why bother when you get everything you want and then some?) and half-barked and half-grunted. You swear she said "Food."

And you're pretty sure she added: "Now."

Of course her dish was promptly filled.

Was there another choice?

Veteran cat owners all know one thing for sure: Living with a cat is not like taking a multiple-choice test. There is only one answer for catering to the cat's every whim. Better learn what it is, unless you like shredded toilet paper.

~R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.