Sweetness and Light

D'Artagnan is what's called a cream tabby. To some, this means that he's a butterscotch & cream color rather than orange marmalade like the more well-known varieties. To me, it means he looks like Morris who laid out in the sun and got faded.

Cream tabbies, by nature, seem to be extremely mellow and D'Art is no exception. The day I got him, he was just a young buck - a teenager - perhaps 4-5 months old, which puts his birthday some time around the first of April, a fitting birthday for such a mischievously innocent creature. I specifically wanted a cat who *liked* other cats, as I wanted to get him a companion, and he was sharing a cage with a fellow shelter-kitty. Yes, he's adopted, but I haven't broken the news to him yet.

After only 20 minutes or so, I completed the paperwork. I asked if he had a name, and the lady said it was "Dar-TAN-EE-on". Cringing only slightly, I helped her correct the spelling (and pronunciation) of his name. A name made famous by Alexandre Dumas, the fourth Musketeer is often remembered as primarily a lover, not a fighter, and D'Art lives up to his name.

I stopped by work to show off my new-found companion, and he proceeded to stretch out full length on the reception desk and let fifty people rub his belly. Watch out - House Cat on Duty. Well, maybe not at THIS house. We were there for well over an hour, as this steady stream of people came through to OOOooOOo and Aaaahhh over him, petting him, touching him, and he didn't once get spooked.

He once got stuck in a tree, about 20 feet off the ground. Declawed, he didn't have a means of climbing DOWN and he refused to jump. I guess the towel I was holding out didn't look inviting enough Fortunately my ten year old neighbor-boy was currently sitting 30 feet up a tree reading a book, so he was a natural choice to send after my wayward son. He got into a fight with a possum once, and had to have an open gaping wound draining out of his chest for three weeks.

A couple of years ago, I had to leave him (and my other cat) for several weeks alone in the house with nothing but a food/water bowl and a litter box. A Category 4 Hurricane blew through town, knocking out electricity, trees, freeways, bridges, and much much more. For some odd reason, the woman who was watching him decided it was too much trouble to check on them regularly. (Something about a hurricane getting in the way?) With the airport closed, I couldn't fly home. Some cats will get pissy with you when you leave them alone too long - D'Art greeted me the same as always, with love and affection, purring, sitting next to me, and curling up against my legs like nothing unusual had happened. But he seemed a little afraid of letting me leave again.

A year later when I left the country for three weeks (this time intentionally), my roommate was watching over him, and I took each of his toes, and visualized the sun rising and setting on each one. I believe some animals have a higher form of intelligence than we give them credit for, but sometimes you have to speak to them in pictures - I wanted him to know that I would be gone for 21 days, and I felt like this was a way I could communicate that. For the 21st day, I visualized the sunrise/sunset again and kissed his face, pressing my nose again him Eskimo-style. When I returned, tired, weakened, sore, and ever so glad to be home, he hopped up on the bed and pressed his nose against mine in the same way - as if he'd been counting the days until my return.

It's been two years since that day, and he's still just as mellow and affectionate as he ever was.....as long as the sun isn't shining. When the sun is out, and it's 80 degrees, he's more like "Thanks for dinner - can I go out now???". I've seen him for all of about ten minutes in the last four days - ninety percent of which was him running to the food bowl and back again.

-BT