I figured that since Barb could brag about her p*ssy on this blog, then I could brag about my p*ssy too. Wait a minute, that just doesn’t sound right, does it? I guess I meant to say I’m going to brag about OUR cat.
In the spring of 2006 we noticed this somewhat skinny, very young cat hanging out around our compost pile. (I guess mice taste better when accompanied by a side of rotting vegetables.) All throughout that summer and the following winter and summer (2007) we would put out food for him (tuna fish mind you, not cheap cat food) when we would see him. Eventually he would tolerate us if we would sit down about 6 feet away from the food bowl. Any closer and he would hiss and growl and go and hide until we left.
At some point during the winter of 2007 he just up and disappeared and we thought for sure the coyotes or someone’s pick-up truck got him. Then in the spring he showed up again. Perhaps he went to Red Lodge to visit his folks in the Old Cats’ Retirement Village. Towards the end of that summer, our neighbor’s (the ones with the sheep) cat, Cheyenne, left on a sightseeing trip and ended up spending several weeks at our house. Oh my, Gato, as we referred to him then, was just completely enamored of her and followed her everywhere. She though, ignored him unless he got to close and then she turned into little miss “let me claw your face”. Not being a stupid cat, Gato learned to keep his distance. But a strange thing happened!! After a couple of weeks of watching us interact with Cheyenne, he just strolled up to me one day and started rubbing himself against my legs. I carefully reached down and touched him and he actually started to purr. Now, this was a male in the prime of his life and most likely was the dominant feline in the parts. I could not get my hand around his neck when I was petting him. It was a solid column of muscle from his shoulders to his head and his shoulders were so large that they caused his legs to curve out away from his body like the massive arms of a bodybuilder. He was like a little Arnold Schwarzenegger.
From that point on he hung around us and would even let us pick him up. But no way was he going to come into the house. Until the great snow of October. It snowed very heavily over night and when we went out in the afternoon, we could hear him crying out. After a little while of searching, we found him trapped in the irrigation pipe. We dug him out and from then on he was very comfortable with spending nights in the house.
At that point we decided to spell his name as “GATEAU” but a friend said he should be Cajun so we added the X and he became “I. MOULTON GATEAUX”. (Also called “PITA”, Pain In The ASS for his numerous trips to the door to be let out and “Dick Cheney”because when he is complaining about something he sounds just like John Stewart imitating Cheney.