I spent the day shooting various pictures, which I’ll be sharing over the next few days.
But first, I must continue my introductions.
When I went to the animal shelter to find myself a new pet after Gomer Pyle had died, I was introduced to little Zelda, who promptly started purring when she was handed to me. My heart melted. She gave me her first little love bite on my arm and purred harder. I knew I had to take her home.
But watching this whole thing from her little cave was Zelda’s sister, a little brown calitabby. Her eyes were wide and she was very curious, but also fearful. The shelter employee picked her up and she immediately let out a long squeak. She didn’t like to be held, but I managed to keep hold of her squirmy little body for about half a minute. She was so tiny. When she got back into her cave, she went to Zelda’s side and they both looked at me with that very particular brand of seriousness that only kittens can manage. I couldn’t split up the sisters.
I’d already decided on the name Zelda for the white sister, but I wasn’t sure what to name the little tabby. I knew it had to be related to the Lost Generation writers of the early 20th century so her name would fit with Zelda’s. Plus, I’m a big ole geek.
I tried a few names that just weren’t right, and then my eye fell on a volume of Dorothy Parker’s short stories. I remembered from a biography I’d read that she often insisted on being called Mrs.Parker, and it immediately felt right.
And so, Mrs.Parker and her sister Zelda started settling in.
Though more cautions than her sister, Mrs.Parker has quite a definite personality. When she gets “the voices” (any cat owner knows what I’m talking about), she gets them bad. She races from room to room, yowling the whole time in her little squeaky voice, and then attacks her scratching post repeatedly until she can knock it over. She also likes to chase her tail and jump wildly whenever I toss her favorite toy mouse over to her.
Sometimes when I’m singing along to certain songs, she runs over to me and starts violently licking my head, then rolls around on the floor trilling and purring before coming over to lick my head again. Like Zelda, she never uses her teeth, though she’s been known to get so overexcited during these bouts of singing-induced lunacy that her love bites can get a bit, shall we say, overenthusiastic. I have to stop singing at that point so she can calm herself down.
The other way to instantly calm her down, whatever the reason for her agitation, is to put a blanket over her. She immediately sits down and starts to purr. When she was a kitten, she’d jump on the bed every night and start scratching at the blankets to be let in. She liked to burrow under the top layer and curl up next to me. She still does this on occasion, just not as often. If I want to hold her for more than a minute before she starts flipping her tail and yowling, I put on my fleece robe, tie the belt, and let her crawl in. She goes right in and just hangs out for as long as I want her in there.
Mrs.Parker sleeps at the foot of the bed each night, often right next to Zelda. The two of them still love to play-fight and chase each other around like their tails are on fire, but like good sisters, they are grooming each other seconds after their “fight” ends. She also likes to “groom” me quite often, especially when we’re all waking up in the morning. The sweetness of this behavior, like Zelda’s lingering sleepiness, also does absolutely nothing to mitigate the pain of getting out of bed in the morning, but it doesn’t seem to stop her.
And that, folks, is Mrs.Parker, the last of the pets I have to introduce. (Not the most exciting conclusion, I know, but the deadline for today’s post looms and I’m tired, so forgive the uninspired writing!)