A reminiscence of cats and pools brought on by my starting swim workouts again. One of Beastie's more endearing traits is that he trusts absolutely and will come up to me in the pool for scritches even though I tease him with a light splash from time to time. He's used to the pool (more about that) but Willie's not seen this behavior of the furless bipeds before. Willie walks 'round the pool and talks and now occasionally takes a scritch but my activity is clearly pathological and deserves sympathy at best.

Years ago I had a large lap-pool, really a double lagoon with an isthmus of water and landscaped right to the rock burm. Dramatis personnae: me, skimming leaves. Max, the shy half-Siamese. Beauty, a reclaimed older feral. Beastie, recently adopted semi-feral. Beastie chases Beauty around the pool; Beauty missteps and slips halfway in before climbing out. Great fun!! So Beastie goes for Max but Max zigs suddenly and jumps the isthmus; Beastie, trying to change direction, falls completely in. Which was worse for him, my laughter or the dunking? There was no sham about "I intended to do this" though!

Beauty was a great cat, I had him for only two years but his character is enduring. Whenever I'd swim he'd come right to the edge, ignoring the splashing and wait for me to scritch him, not minding how wet he'd get from it. He's come with an investment house and the owners told me he was unapproachable. Well, that was tripe, he was a lover so I named him Beauty because he wasn't the purported beast. (Beastie's name was a natural follow up and he's lived up to it ever since, the bugger!).

Copyright © Norm deCarteret
February 17, 2002