A cat has absolute emotional honesty: human beings, for one reason or another may hide their feelings, but a cat does not.
~Ernest Hemingway
The first time he did it, we thought it was a one-time thing. My husband and I were cooking dinner, and we heard this guttural screaming coming from the bathroom. We ran to see if Boo Boo Kitty was okay, only to find him dragging a towel he had taken off the rack. He had it in his mouth and was tripping over it as he carried it through the kitchen. He was howling like a fire alarm.
Boo Boo was a crazy cat that we adopted from our local shelter. Every animal we’ve had came with its own bit of kookiness, but Boo Boo was by far the most unusual. He didn’t pay much attention to us at first, apparently because he had this obsession with dragging anything fabric through the house. He would get into our closets and pull shirts, pants, and sweaters from the hangers. He would grab blankets off our beds and run through the house screaming, as if to say, “I’ll save you. Come with me!”
Boo Boo didn’t care who saw him do it, and I knew it could happen at any time. That’s what made him so lovable. One afternoon, I was lying on the couch watching a movie with him curled up on my chest when the doorbell rang. Boo Boo took off because the doorbell always scared him. It was my day off, and I hadn’t cleaned the house yet, but at least I was dressed and looked decent enough to answer the door.
My neighbor had a big smile on her face as she handed me a plate of her gorgeous cookies. “Are you busy?” she asked.
“Hi, Anna! No, of course not. How sweet of you to bake for me!” I motioned for her to come in while saying a silent prayer, “Please, God, help Boo Boo Kitty be on his best behavior.”
Anna, a lovely older woman, lived across the street. She would often invite me over for tea and some of her homemade Italian cookies. Her teacups looked like they should have been in a museum, as did everything else in her house. On the other hand, I liked to think of my house as having that “lived-in” look — comfortable, like an old pair of sneakers.
Anna never had a pet, so her house didn’t have scratched-up furniture or fur balls hiding in all the nooks and crannies like ours did. She did everything with grace and perfection, so I was always a little hesitant to have her in my house.
I saw Boo Boo Kitty run into the bedroom as I invited Anna to sit down. Unfortunately, the bedroom was where he got into the most trouble.
We were having a delightful conversation at the kitchen table when I heard the howling begin. I tried to ignore it even though I knew what was coming.
“How’s your garden doing this summer?” I asked Anna. Boo Boo’s howling was getting louder and closer to us.
“My tomatoes are bigger than last year,” she said, trying to hide her obvious concern over what she was hearing.
“Oh, nothing better than homegrown tomatoes,” I said. I could feel the sweat beading up on my forehead.
Boo Boo was now emitting his primal scream as he dragged a pair of my husband’s pajama bottoms into the kitchen. He must have grabbed them off a shelf. This particular day, of all days, he had the pajamas I had given my husband for Valentine’s Day — with Cupids and hearts all over them.
I still tried to act like nothing out of the ordinary was happening even though I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. I kept babbling, “Boy, you’ll have to give me the recipe for these cookies, Anna. They’re fabulous!” She was, of course, ever the polite lady and thanked me for the compliment while shifting her eyes toward the cat. Boo Boo dropped the pajamas at her feet as if to say, “Here is a wonderful gift for you, Anna!” He looked so pleased with himself. Meanwhile, I was trying to figure out how to explain this situation to a woman who seemed perfect in every way.
We continued to chat as I tried to hide my embarrassment. I snatched up the pajamas and was pretty sure my face was redder than the hearts that covered them. I explained that Boo Boo was a shelter cat, and we had saved his life by adopting him. I went on to say, “I really love pets, but sometimes they can be kind of quirky.” I just kept chattering, and I think I even told her about all my childhood pets. I couldn’t stop talking. At this point, Boo Boo was rubbing on Anna’s leg, leaving a large patch of gray fur on her crisply ironed, navy slacks.
While I was embarrassed, Boo Boo was just the opposite. He was unabashedly sharing himself, with all his quirkiness. He didn’t care that he was dragging pajamas around the house and screaming. It was as if he wanted to say, “This is who I am, and I want you to know me.”
I thought later to myself, What a great way to be. Boo Boo taught me a lesson about not trying to be someone you aren’t. I shouldn’t have been embarrassed just because I had a weird cat.
My neighbor stayed for quite a while that day, and I thought she would never come over again, but she did several more times. I’m assuming she liked coming over because she could let her hair down and relax a bit in our way less than perfect home. She seemed to enjoy Boo Boo’s crazy antics. I know he liked her, too. He wouldn’t have given heart-covered pajamas to just anyone.
~Marijo Herndon
