Hale Bopp has become the Master of Stealth, he thinks. He has become so accustomed to the sound of the bell on his collar that I believe he has forgotten that I can hear it. This has prevented many an escape attempt. However, he has managed to slip out under the feet of entering or departing guests and maintenance men who are not as wise to his ways. Today it was the UPS guy at the door, and me in robe and flip-flops trying to sign the pad and keep Bopp from slipping out while transferring a 30x30 box from outside to in.

Understand, where I live there are rules about cats. In order to be allowed to have a cat one must produce a $200 non-refundable deposit, a letter from your doctor AND your Shrink, and you agree that the cat will remain indoors at all times unless on a leash. Break the rule, and your cat is history. Occasional escapes are tolerated, unless another tenant complains. Hale Bopp always makes a beeline to the door of the ONE neighbor who both hates me and is allergic to cats. I call it his "Death Wish" move.

So when the Bopster made his dash, I was unable to stop him, and the UPS guy was not about to chase my cat. It was 41 degrees outside (F), so I had to go put on clothes and boots before I could go retrieve my wayward Kitty.

I can see the front door of said neighbor from my front door, so when I went out I looked first in that direction, hoping that he had been distracted on the way by a bush or a small child. To my surprise he was nowhere to be seen. I scanned the entire "cell block" for any sign of him, and located instead a child of about 6 who informed me that my "gato" had gone in the direction which he pointed out with his bright blue-mittened hand. He had gone to the back side of the building where above mentioned cat hating neighbor lives.

So, off I trotted to see whether I could head Msr. Kat Astrophy off from the other end of the building. As I came around the corner I spotted Hale Bopp sorta laying on the ground, head low, butt up but tail down. My first thought was that he was hurt, and I started to run toward him. Then I saw the other cat.

I was so stunned at what a sight lay before me that was speechless. Then I fell over laughing. Sitting on the stoop was a Ginger Cat, looking every bit as regal as Bath. The animal was maybe 12 weeks old, and had the bearing of a Goddess. Hale Bopp was about 6 feet from her in the most submissive pose I have ever seen in a cat. The Ginger Cat was paying him no attention what so ever, and gave me barely a "twitch" of acknowledgment of my presence as I scooped the poor pitiful no-longer-so-royal Bopster up and let him cuddle my neck all the way home. It was the first time he let me return him home without at least one attempted at freedom.

Hale Bopp has been hiding under a table ever since. So I tried to piece this together. Yes, the Ginger Cat was female, but too young to be in heat. Hale Bopp was upwind of her, and never got close enough for a visual check to know which sex. So, I deduce from this that a) The Cat Messiah, or at the very least a High Royal has been born right here in Santa Fe, or b) Hale Bopp, far from being His Highness and the Royal Cat that he has led me to believe, is in fact a Cat Peasant who has had his cover blown in front of his Human, and is hiding because he feels (rightly) humiliated.

Copyright © Reggie
February 4, 2000