Cat Whisperer

Standard

Stevie Ray

“Mom, if you keep talking like that, people will start calling you the Cat Lady.”

Brandishing his infinite wisdom, my college-age son once again offered his advice. And called me the Cat Lady!

Cat Lady? Visions of a deranged, lonely woman surrounded by hundreds of hungry, yowling felines invaded my imagination. Okay, the scenario is technically possible, but what my son doesn’t know is that I AM The Cat Lady, better known as The Cat Whisperer. I talk to my cat, and he talks back.

He doesn’t speak English. If he could, I think he’d prefer to talk like an Egyptian due to his breeding, but, nevertheless, he speaks. He just doesn’t use words.

He shows rather than tells.

Stevie Ray, named after the legendary blues guitarist Stevie Ray Vaughan, is a highly intelligent tabby who communicates with subtle and not-so-subtle cues.

Stevie Ray is a free spirit. He comes and goes as he pleases. I don’t force him to stay. He’s a back-door man who taps on my sunroom’s glass door with his velvet paw when he wants to enter.

Stevie Ray is refined. He requires no litter box. He sits by the door and meows when he needs to excuse himself. If I don’t respond soon enough, he sharpens his claws on my potted plant and shakes the leaves until he has my attention. If necessary, he topples the plant, which is nearly five feet tall.

Other than the occasional tree toppling, Stevie Ray, never, ever, violates my home–which is a whole lot more than I can say for the Scottish terror who invades our  living room and kitchen. She, with her vindictive attitude and predisposition for stealing quesadillas on take-home Mexican Monday, is jealous of Stevie Ray. Given the opportunity, she sneaks into the sunroom where Stevie Ray and I hang out, and leaves a nasty “gift” on the carpet by my computer.

By nature, I’m a dog lover. In addition to Maggie, the Scottie, I am also the proud owner of a yellow lab and a Hellhound. I’m sorry. This IS a rated-G blog. But it’s true. The same college-aged son who accused me
of being the future Cat Lady once brought home a sweet little black puppy we named Scooby Dee. I relented and let her stay, never imagining what she would turn out to be.

Little did I know that this black puppy with the big paws would grow into a shiny ebony monster with a Cheshire cat grin that resembles a Capuchin monkey. She has a body that’s a cross between a black lab and a Great Dane and the face of a Pit Bull or some other flesh-gouging canine straight from the depths of ….

But she’s a sweetheart, despite her looks. Scooby talks too. Literally. She tries to mimic our speech. But I don’t understand her words. I have to watch her actions. When Scooby wags her lethal tail, she’s happy, so happy, she knocks me off my feet.

Lacy, her yellow sister, is the runt of a litter of 13, the baby. And you know what they say about the baby. She always wants attention. I enrolled her in obedience school, and the leaders almost kicked us out because Lacy was too social. She barked constantly and wanted to rub noses with ever pup in the place.

Nevertheless, Lacy SHOWS her affection by trying to snuggle in my lap. Nevermind she’s at least 50 or 60 pounds. She flops at our feel for belly rubs and shakes hands over and over again because she knows it makes me happy.

My pets don’t tell; they show. And that’s what effective writers do.

My juniors are preparing for the TCAP Writing Assessment Test. My goal is for them to show vivid examples, not just tell about them. We’ve been practicing this objective all week. I usually throw in a personal example like the one below to make a point.

As a naïve, young teacher I agreed to sponsor a band concert for Homecoming, not realizing that five-foot little old me would be the ONLY chaperone of 500 hormonal teens. And because it was a concert, the only lights available were on the stage.

I could tell you I was terrified. Better yet, let me paint you a verbal picture and show you.

Being the naïve young teacher, I feared two things: procreation and illegal drug use. I was moderately worried about the mosh pit, forming at the front of the stage.

I watched with hawk eyes, and then I saw saw it. The glow of a red light. My imagination soared. I had to save my students. I assumed some shady perpetrator had sneaked a funny cigarette into the theater. I flew into combat mode and attacked the unknown suspect, yanking him over the back of the theater chairs.

Can you say overzealous?

Ironically, the red light on the alleged smoke was actually a laser that beamed from a Rebel Canon EOS camera. I had just wrestled my newspaper cameraman to the ground. I didn’t recognize him in the dark. I think I scarred him for life.

Can you say embarrassed?

A picture is worth a thousand words.

The greatest piece of advice my mother ever gave me was, “Actions speak louder than words.” You can only truly judge a person’s heart by examining his actions. Some people are takers. They depend on other people to make them happy. They always want something and possess a “What’s in it for me”attitude. Other people are givers. They find their happiness in doing something to make others happy, even if it means sacrificing something for themselves.

When it comes to writing, readers want to get to know their characters. They want  to fall in love with the characters in our books just as we want to fall in love with the characters in our lives. Actions speak louder than words.

Being the hopeless romantic, my heart melts in the presence of a giver. And that’s what I want my readers’ hearts to do when they meet my characters. I can’t just tell my readers the protagonist in my book is wonderful. I have to show them. I have to make the character do something that makes the readers’ hearts melt. Actions speak louder than words.

Just ask Stevie Ray. If he flips his tail, he’s telling you to back off, but if he purrs, he invites you to enjoy his presence. Right now he’s sleeping at my feet—he wants to be near me. That’s how I know he loves me.

At least that’s what his actions say.

About these ads

20 thoughts on “Cat Whisperer

  1. Roger Steele

    I love it, my animals behave that way too, I have a shy princess named Chloe, A dominant male cat who owns my wife named Lex, was Lexi until we found it was a boy..Also Molly the kindest dog I have ever met, lets any other animal eat first, doesn’t growl or bite. My duck Hannah is the star of the neighbor hood, doing tricks in her pool for the neighbor kids, she owns my son..

  2. My animals are very much like that especially my dog. He rarely barks. We had him an entire year before we heard him bark. Actually, he has facial expressions and intense tail wagging. My outdoor cat can’t talk to me though. She is mute, so she definitely has to get my attention with other things. Poor thing can’t meow. And you’re right, if your cat doesn’t want to be near someone he flips that little tail. Haha, or at least he flipped his tail at me.

    • Yes, you know what I’m talking about. Remember when you and Hippie Chick rescued the litter of kittens and tried to get me to take Yoko? Stevie was not happy.

  3. Hahah, Tee. Have I told you lately that I love you? Well, there ya go! This made me smile and feel much better before I have to set out to two more classes. Thanks for being you… and I am glad that you haven’t tackled me to the ground!! <3

  4. pete

    Enjoyable is the word for this post of yours. You probably don’t remember that when you were at Westwood, Mr. Bush directed me to have a sock hop for a fund raiser in the gym. Even though I was dealing with 10 year olds, it was not something I wanted to do but had no choice although I offered him $200 (considerably more than they would have made) for the school fund to relieve me from the chore. I can’t imagine having that task for high school students, especially if you had to deal with any such as myself at 17. Keep up the good work; it’s always a treat.

    • I remember gym class vividly. It was my favorite–even though I was the most uncoordinated kid in the class. I never felt ashamed because I knew you cared. I must say that $200 is a very small price to pay to avoid having a sock hop with 10 year olds. My nerves today could not possibly handle it. I was a day camp counselor a couple of summers, and THAT was the hardest job I’ve ever had to do. My nerves! My nerves! Teens are a breeze compared to tweens. Thanks for the input. You made me laugh. I’m glad I’m not the only teacher who would resort to honest bribery.

  5. Teresa

    I have the same “talkative” pets. Two indoor cats, Silver and Tiger, who vie for attention WHEN and IF they want it. A dog that owns all of us and lets the world know it, except for the pizza delivery guys and gals!! He loves them.

    • Maggie, the Scottie, pretends to be ferocious when someone knocks on the door. She’s very territorial. One day, though, I put her outside in the sunshine in Lacy’s pen. When I looked out the window, Maggie was lying on her side, apparently paralyzed. It seems that some Scotties fall over like fainting goats when they are excited. Poor thing. Maggie was terrified to be in the “real world” that she became paralyzed. I had to go rescue “the great protector.”

  6. Jessica Thomas

    I am owned by my cat, Grrr. He is sure to let everyone knows it too. We have a comfortable living and he speaks to me too, mostly through his actions. If I, being rather harebrained occasionally, have forgotten to give him water, he will jump into the sink and meow at me until I finally look at him. He’s quite an odd cat sometimes. In fact, I’m sure he does not realize he is indeed a cat.

    • That’s a nice way to tell you he needs water. Maggie, the ninja dog, aka the Scottish terrier, is blatantly rude about informing of her hydration needs. She uses her snout to knock the water bottle offer her crate, and she noses it all over the kitchen, making such a loud racket that we can’t hear the TV. She’s a demanding little critter.

  7. Tina

    I remember the sock hop, Mr. Jackson…& I so agree…. Your writing is beautiful to read & a salve to my worried head tonight. I think you should be the new editorial writer in the vein of our most esteemed W. Payne. The contrast between reading your blog & that editorial is very extreme, & it’s nice to read such eloquence in the matters of cat talk. You’re very talented Teresa.

  8. Wow, what a great post! The students in your class are so blessed to have you! I love your dogs! We have a Chinese Sharpei named Chloe who is our daughter and brings us so much joy. Another great post. Outta da park!!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s