Dorrie is such a strange kitty. She looks like a calico bush baby because her eyes are so huge. She always looks like she's in the throes of terminal fear.

When I take her to the vet, the vet techs steal her and take her out back to all the other techs so they can coo and exclaim over her eyes. Of course she's frightened in such a strange place so her eyes get bigger and she trembles a little so they make even a bigger deal over her. I think she is milking them for all the attention and treats she can get. If she is truly afraid she would pee on them.

She wheezes when she purrs. Vet says she has mild allergies so I have drops for when she gets too bad. She also snores. She scares herself at every opportunity.

I have these door stoppers along the baseboard near every door in the house (closets, too) They are springy and flexible. At least once a day she brushes one as she goes by and it sprongs back and smacks her in the rear. She leaps. She freaks. She flattens herself on the carpet and stares up the wall in terror. I always wonder why she thinks it would be on the ceiling if it had just attacked her at floor level.

My husband calls her Dorky because she is terrified of everything around her. Except anything that can beat the sh*t out of her. Then she has absolutely no fear at all.

When Dave Yehudah came out to visit last summer they brought Mac. He's a miniature dachshund who is quite used to herding cats. My other two (very brave kitties most of the time) decided they wanted no part of him and quietly vanished. Not Dorrie. She guarded her bedroom door and DARED that barking thing to come into her room. He tried, but she refused to back down. If it had been one of us she would have looked startled as if she had never seen us before in her life and run for cover.

She picks fights with Shinobu. Even thought Shinobu is an old lady she can still kick Dorrie's fuzzy little butt. Once Shinobu gets the better of her, she screams like she is being murdered. This is because she knows Alex will rescue her.

She is my only lap fungus. It is her Bast given right to sleep on my lap in the evenings and supervise my computer activities in the morning. If I ignore her and don't pick her up, she will bite my legs until she gets some attention.

Dorrie likes to beg at the table, but she does it like no other animal I have ever seen. She puts one paw on the window sill, with her back to us, standing on her tip toes (looking like a pregnant weasel). She then bends over backward and meows at us to give her goodies. She likes beef and chicken best.

But then Dorrie likes to eat. A lot. She gained a pound the year she had a tapeworm. I call her my furry beach ball. I got a good look at her from behind and now I call her my cow kitty.

She's a strange one all right. But we love her.

Copyright © Hazel Az
July 12, 2001