The Miss Kitty update

Miss Kitty is annoyed.

As a regular reader of the Southeast Missourian and this column in particular, our calico queen is miffed that she has not been mentioned for several weeks, much less had, as she feels she deserves, a starring role.

Miss Kitty wonders, for example, why a make-believe downtown golf tournament deserves so much space.

Fourth of July? Why waste ink and paper on a holiday that promotes fireworks, which scare the you-know-what out of cats?

Instead of the usual drivel Miss Kitty finds so annoying in this column, here is what's important to a furry creature prone to eating and sleeping. Period.

As has previously been mentioned, Miss Kitty has wangled her way into the Sullivan house, even though she was clearly taken in as an outdoor cat (with heated sheepskin sleeping accommodations and fresh food and water twice daily) with come-and-go access to the garage.

This process has occurred in small steps over a period of several years. At first she pretended to understand my wife's cat-dander allergy and behaved as the very model of a modern feline boarder.

Then came the cold winter day when my soft-hearted wife -- the one with the allergy -- took pity on Miss Kitty and invited her in "just to warm up a bit."

Question: Have you ever seen a cold cat?

After that first visit, Miss Kitty's inside privileges were expanded. Now she comes inside most of the time we aren't asleep. While she would gladly snuggle at the foot of our bed (or on our pillows), the cat knows not to push her luck. For now. She sticks to sleeping on the comfy cushioned wicker chair in the family room on one of the kitchen stools or in my lap whenever I occupy my recliner.

Over time, Miss Kitty, a creature of habit and precise schedules, has adopted a routine that, I'm sure, is familiar to many cat lovers.

Once inside, her first priority is a visit to the patch of floor next to the refrigerator where a bowl of milk and special cat treats are dispensed by my wife. Not me. Treats from me are considered potentially lethal.

Then it's off to the family room where a choice must be made between the wicker chair or my lap. If I'm reading, there is likely to be a toss pillow under the book in my lap, which limits the real estate available to a certain four-pawed creature with needle-sharp claws.

The prime territory for Miss Kitty is my tummy, the soft, cushy expanse which, to a cat, seems to serve no other useful purpose.

I, on the other hand, am all too aware of the painful possibilities of a cat's prickly claws, so I prefer to have the cat curl up elsewhere.

The never-ending game is this: Miss Kitty climbs up into the recliner with me, surveys the situation, glowers at the book and pillow and creeps to one side to access my broad middle, all the while carefully keeping an eye on my resistance or lack thereof.

On a good day, Miss Kitty manages to stretch out on what must be the most heavenly sleeping pad to be found anywhere. On a not-so-good day, she is relegated to the area of the recliner between my legs. When this happens, she does a positioning maneuver during which she backs here butt under the pillow, leaving only her head exposed to the elements.

My wife swears Miss Kitty could parallel park a semi.

When it comes time for Miss Kitty to leave the recliner, she turns into a boneless glob with amazing gravity superpowers, becoming both heavy and graspless. If you manage to pick up one end, she simply spills out somewhere else.

When it is finally obvious that she most move, Miss Kitty slouches toward the recliner's footrest and waits to be lowered, elevator style, to the floor.

You've heard of "creatures of habit"? Miss Kitty carries the genes of the animal that sparked the term. Is it possible to mess with her routine? You can try. But that's another story.

jsullivan@semissourian.com;