Between evolution and revolution, the line that separates species has become blurred over time. I first understood the complexities of Man versus Ape when I started dating. And as every other mother of a teenager knows, the line between Man and Pigs is even slimmer. But you would think the line between cats and dogs is pretty clear. I mean bark versus meow, growl versus hiss, whizzing on bushes versus litter boxes….
But that demarcation line apparently does not exist at my house. That made me think that perhaps I live in some kind of feline/canine Twilight Zone. I first realized this when Precious the kitten (now an adult) became very fond of Grady. Very, very fond of Grady. In fact, when she cuddled up to him she went into an ecstasy of purring and kneading which Grady accepted without protest. You’d have thought he would have protested most vigorously. Because I discovered the reason she was so ecstatic, was that she was nursing on him.
Apparently man dog teats are great substitutes for the real thing. Precious had not been weaned early, either. In fact, she had been off the milk bar for a matter of months when she discovered this delightful pastime which persists to this day, with Grady’s full compliance. And so I began to wonder….does he realize he’s not a cat?
We don’t know when Grady went blind. The ophthalmologist’s best estimate was at least two years ago, due to the deterioration of his optic nerves. So one can safely presume that Grady had seen and would recognize the sight of a cat. But did that mean he could also identify a cat by sight, smell, sound, etc.?
His history with cats was unknown, but he seemed to understand the boundaries with Betsy’s cat when he was first taken into rescue. Then he came here and was surrounded by cats. Literally. And he liked it. His assimilation began.
He doesn’t chase mice yet, mostly because it would be a suicidal mouse to chew his way in here with all the Birmans. But he does love his chest rubs to the point his eyes glaze over, and I swear he’d purr if he could. Then, there is Fuzzy.
Fuzzy was best friends with Nikki, one of my last rescues. You never saw Nikki in her bed without Fuzzy. When Nikki left us Fuzzy would sit where her bed used to be. Without Nikki, he had plenty of time to harass the other cats, and harass them he did. There’s nothing he loves more than a drive-by smack, or a staring/stalking attack. So after Grady joined us I figured that would distract him. Boy, was I wrong.
Fuzzy is more diabolical than ever. And now Grady has joined him. As followers of his blog may remember, Grady has been known to charge up the stairs and grab Precious, in lieu of his stuffed duck. They hang together like the best of bro’s. They tag team annoy the other cats in turn. Which is when I began to ask myself….does Grady now think he’s a cat? Have the lines become blurred in his darkness? Has he crossed over the fe-line to the dark side?
(Lest anyone be alarmed by their interaction, please note that Fuzzy’s claws are not out, and that Grady is very careful how he touches Fuzzy. They only play like this as long as it’s mutually fun, then one quits and the other one sulks.)