For those of you joining us after the commercial break, this is the latest in a continuing series of anecdotes about Pirate. Our star is a 15-pound Maine Coon with a mind of his own and a disposition borrowed from Mike Tyson. Pirate's not afraid to go a couple of rounds with ANYONE. My friends are divided into the "Fear him", "Try to ignore him", and "Well, it's just a scratch ... OK, a long, deep scratch" camps.

Occasionally, I leave town (just ahead of the law), and someone must care for the animals. Besides Pirate, there is Josie the Lap-Seeking Missile, and Lucky, the Scaredy Cat. They are no problem. Pirate is the problem. And also why I so rarely find someone who will care for my cats twice.

One summer, my friend Jon agreed to watch the cats for a week. Apparently, my presence brings out Pirate's good side -- the side that likes to growl at people and give them fair warning, rather than just leaping on their backs first thing. With me gone, Pirate has no social boundaries. He becomes King of the Apartment, a miniature pit bull with puffy white fur and pink ears.

Jon quickly discovered that Pirate saw no need to wait until Jon was actually all the way through the door before launching a preemptive strike on his shoes. He also discovered that bending over to reach food and water dishes was an invitation for Flying Cat-Fu. But, he found Pirate's weakness. Like the Wicked Witch of the West, Pirate has a long green nose. No, that's not right. Oh, I remember -- they're both afraid of water!

Jon acquired a Super-Soaker, filled it with that fearsome H20, and left it just inside the apartment door. He would open the door and snatch up the Super-Soaker in one swift movement. Pirate would come flying around the corner, ready to leap, but Jon was ready. "Hasta la vista, kitties!" he would say, ratcheting the plunger on the Super-Soaker. Pirate would spy his liquid nemesis and retreat. Jon was victorious.

A few months later, I had to leave town again. Jon was not available to watch the cats (I think he said he was washing his hair that week). So, I asked one of my dwindling collection of gullible friends. Mark agreed.

Wishing to be helpful, I pre-loaded the Super-Soaker and left it by the door. "Mark," I said, "the Super-Soaker is right by the door. Grab it as soon as you get in. And don't let him smell fear. Good luck, soldier."

Mark understood the instructions. When the time came, he unlocked my apartment door, opened it, and immediately looked for the Super-Soaker. There it was, on the floor.

But Pirate is no ordinary cat. Pirate learns.

And Pirate was sitting ON the Super-Soaker.

The rest is just too graphic to describe in a family newsgroup.

Copyright © Jordan H. Orzoff
October 17, 1998