Willie is a natural heir to my feelings for my lamented Max but it's hard to explain. He's never gotten or stayed in my lap and doesn't sit on the chair arm or by my feet. He doesn't sleep in the bedroom (until the last hour or so, probably more to get an early alert to food than anything). It's hard to tell when he's purring ... -if- he's purring. But if he's awake he does stay around whatever I'm doing, even involve or try to distract me if he's feeling playful. He's intelligent, playful and inventive but that's not It.

It's sort of in the nature of the relationship; it's like we're really equals (Hey Ma! I gotta promotion!). For instance yesterday, with all the acorns on the deck, I started rolling a couple toward Willie; that was okay but when they rolled under the railing and dropped 8' to the ground THAT was cool. So Willie starts batting the acorns around for himself to watch them fall off so what started as amusement for me became amusement for him - not to mention a chore being done too.

Willie has an ulcerated cornea (thanks Loos!) and of course hates the ointment. After the first time though he accepted this indignity calmly - o'course if he saw it coming - see that streak through the cat door? Last week we switched him to drops because it seemed the trouble was more red-eye irritation but last night I saw the ulcer again so ... ointment which really p*ssed him off. And again this AM. But ... I've been logged in for over an hour and Willie lay close by. As I got up I picked him up and, lo, despite these insults and attacks on his integrity he had been purring all this time. Oh, and when I want him, any time, I step out and whistle and he will be through the door within a minute - mind, I reinforce this with a cat treat or dinner - the bad news comes later.

Copyright © Norm deCarteret
September 26, 2002