This week’s napping cat, spotlighted in our weekend feature Let Sleeping Dogs Lie & Napping Cats Nap, comes from the international offices of Readlarrypowell.com.
I’ll begin at the beginning.
When Martha and I married in 1991, she brought 3 cats to the new combined household -- Lucy, a Maine Coon who adored me; Cyril, a rotund black-and-white rascal who galloped like a quarterhorse and was just as wide; and a fabulous big black cat named Bob who was (and remains!) Martha’s soul mate.
The Great Bob -- and he was a great cat -- died on Memorial Day 2001 -- cancer, a tough fight by the old gentleman Bob. We wept. Our house is forever short by one, large black cat.
Six weeks after Bob died, my funspouse Martha was driving home from work downtown. She took her usual route, south on Zang and as she drove along about a block from a psychic’s office (we’ve never visited!), Martha spotted a black kitten in the middle of the street.
She did one of those movie slide-this-car-to-a-halt stops, jumped out and chased the kitten out of the road and under some nearby shrubbery where she reached in and grabbed the little critter.
Not that Martha’s a little nutty, of course, but the kitten was a girl, so native-Texan Martha gave the kitten a good Texas-style name, “Annabelle Bob.”
About a month ago, Martha bought a new comforter to go on our bed. One night, after working a little late in the living room, I went back to the bedroom and caught this scene. And my first thought when I saw it was “Bob!” Bob slept on top of Martha virtually his entire life. It was unusual to see her in the bed without Bob The Cat glued to her hip.
And, now, here is the photo of Annabelle Bob taking up the spot favored by a cat she never met -- unless, of course, she is the spirit of the original Bob, returned as a girl cat this time.
Annabelle Bob adores Martha -- it’s a mutual admiration society. The only thing, all these years later, we’ve never seen Annabelle do is, while Martha is sleeping, crawl up onto her shoulder, lean down and bite the strip of flesh between her nostrils!
Bob did that to tell Martha it was time to be fed -- the first time it happened after we got married, I was shaken by the scream from my new bride!
Annabelle has never gone hungry in the mornings, so, perhaps, the Spirit of Bob is satisfied with the way he trained Martha in his earlier life.
[To nominate your slumbering critter -- reincarnated or the first time around! -- for the spotlight of Let Sleeping Dogs Lie & Napping Cats Nap, send photo and info to email@example.com. And, insomniacs, try not to lay awake wondering who you were in a previous life -- it was probably just somebody who didn’t get enough sleep.]
A FOLLOW UP ON TRIPP THE MISSING DOG
Janet Majors of Tyler wasted no words in her email Friday afternoon. “Tripp is found!!” she wrote.
You may recall the story of Tripp. Earlier in the week we reported how he’d gone missing while his ride was parked near the Tanger Outlet Mall on I-20 at Terrell.
The dog had vanished from her son Tim’s pickup while he was parked there. The family had looked and looked throughout the area, calling vets, shelters, rescue groups, etc.
Friday afternoon Janet sent a note that points out a simple thing that helped get Tripp back home.
She said, “A couple called with the tag ID info on his collar and we picked him up at the McDonald's on I-20 at the Hwy 69 exit. The vet checked him out and we happily have our boy home.”
Whoa! Dog tags work!
Janet says, "From what they said, they just saw him today walking along a road and looked at his ID and decided to call us. Of course, there are flyers posted all in that area, but they didn’t mention seeing them. We gave them $200 and they were grateful for that (being down to their last $10 they said)! A miracle for Tripp and us, no matter what the real truth might be!! Wish he could tell us of his adventures! He has been sleeping since we got home, poor baby."
There’s your happy ending as May draws to a close. Dog tags work.
May 31 is my Mom’s birthday. Mrs. J.C. “Pearl” Powell. Member of Highland Park Baptist Church in Texarkana since before the Beatles broke up, since the days when Ike was president, since black-and-white TV and before anybody listened to FM radio. And, yet, she is only celebrating her 39th birthday! If you see her up in Texarkana, tell her “Happy birthday!” Yep, 39. That’s an old, old Jack Benny joke and if you remember Jack Benny, you’re much older than you look. How’s that for a compliment?
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