Friday, August 19, 2005

Catrina the Male Cat

When Catrina was still a kitten my dad had no idea he was actually male. Months later, I told him about the juvenile cat having balls, but it was too late and the name stuck. Anyhow, Catrina knew who the Alpha Male in our family was, so he would sit under the resthouse table very prettily begging for scraps. And no one could resist him. Usually, he would walk aloofly around the farm grounds as though he owned it.

One day we realized he'd disappeared, and someone in the neighboring farm had tried to adopt him, but he wouldn't settle. Eventually he found his way back to us, with a bit of green plastic string tied around his neck. The boys cut the offending string away, replaced his little chain necklace and tag, and fed and bathed him in the manner to which he was accustomed.

Catrina and my pretty farm dog Martina (archive entry My Pretty Mongrel) grew up together. They were so close that Catrina would actually sleep on top of Martina to keep warm. There were times we've caught Martina brushing up our pantlegs like she were a cat, and Catrina acting like he were a dog.

Catrina's actually never grown out of juvenile size. But he's grown sleek and presented me lots of times with photo opportunities. Once in a while I pick him up and give him a cuddle or put him on my lap stroking his fur, but after some time he likes to leap down and walk around in his lordly little way. I've seen male cats grow big and feral, but I'm glad my little Catrina remains dainty and adorable.