EUNICE X, THE CAT WHISPERER
Before I get on with this, you may notice that I have enhanced Eunice’s fictitious name by adding an ‘X’. This adds propriety so she won’t be lumped in with Cher or Madonna. The truth is that Eunice has been married before. I, however, am using my real name, and was single and a mere babe in the woods when we met. Granted, an old babe, but over the course of our wedded bliss, Eunice would make a reference, a comparison if, you will, of her first husband and me, sometimes causing me to look like an idiot, although there were other instances where no comparison was needed. Truly, though, in those situations when her ex seemed the brighter bulb in the socket, rather than be one-upped by him, I can now remind her that she, herself, is my X and, at least in my mind, achieve a sort of balance.
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When I first met Eunice, she had just one cat. I didn’t feel the need to go deeper. The cat was called ‘Tuffy’, (his real name, and why should I shield him since he’d be in his 40s now. I’m certain his reign of terror is ended.) He did have an intimidating presence, not fierceness but more of the fat punk variety. Toward me, he always showed a hostile demeanor. And yes, he would attack on occasion, but not in the usual direct way. What he would do is position himself around a corner in the apartment and wait until I approached. As I neared the corner, he would spring up in a high leap about 4 or 5 feet off the floor and bounce with his feet out across my path in front of me and scare the @#+% out of me. Eunice thought it was cute. The cat could jump up an incredible height for such a tubbo but he never took to me. Later, the first time we moved, I discovered he was also a petty thief.
We’ve had other cats along the way, mostly Eunice’s. They weren’t all hers but in the end, they all gravitated to her and I ended up playing second fiddle, that is, watching as they took turns in her lap or nosing each other, making me wonder why I didn’t just give up and try a ferret. We visited New York in the 90s (not ours, the 1990s) where I thought if I could make it there, I’d make it anywhere but some songs don’t pan out. We strolled down Broadway, Park Ave. and everywhere Eunice went, felines came from alleys, sewers; a few bringing rats and birds in tribute, one pair even stopping their cat fight out of respect. I was in awe.
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