Our ancient orange cat, Alexander
March 16, 2012 § 11 Comments
When Dave asked me to marry him, I said that my “yes” was contingent upon his acceptance of my cat Alexander. And so it was, that Dave married me and a fluffy orange cat. At the time, Alexander was a mere lad. Today, he’s 16. For an ancient beast, the cat does fairly well. He misses the litterbox sometimes, but for the most part, Alexander is still fairly spry for a cat of his age. We thought he’d have a difficult time moving to the farmhouse, but he has settled in very well. His food and water are on the catwalk (how appropriate) overlooking the living room on one side, and the front yard on the other other side. He spends his days sitting in the window, watching the City construction workers overhaul our street. In the evenings, he turns his attention to the other side of the catwalk, hanging his head between the rails, and watching us eating dinner and talking in the living room.
When Dave was growing up in this house, his cats enjoyed the catwalk. He still likes to tell the story about how cats used to jump off the catwalk and into his arms. I can’t imagine a cat doing such a thing…jumping off a 12-foot bridge into some kid’s ARMS, but he swears it is true.
Alexander likes to taunt the dogs. He eats out of their dishes, rests luxuriantly on the back of the couch just out of reach, and tempts them with his tail hanging from the spiral staircase. He has been chased many times, but never caught. In the living room, he has an Alexander-sized door inside of one of our end tables. He likes to sit inside the end table, poking out his head (or paw) when a dog is walking by. This infuriates the dogs. They dislike being poked and prodded by an orange stranger. They’ve attempted to insert their heads into the table’s cat door, but so far have had terrible luck with catching the cat.
I have no idea how much more time we’ll have with Alexander. He’s healthy, reasonably spry, and has a pretty easy life here at the farmhouse. I suspect he’ll be with us many more years.