Pictures of cats equals increased stats, so it’s time to tell you about our fifth and final cat. All of our cats are ‘rescues’ of one sort or another. This one is no different. We changed the names of a couple of our cats, but not this one, although, like all the others, we’ve added a few.
He came to us named Tonka, and it suited him so well that it stuck. It means ‘large, great, or powerful’, and is where the Tonka Toy Company gets its name. We think that there is a cat breeder in the area who is trying to crossbreed to get Bengals, and throwing away the failures. We have seen another female who is a twin in appearance, although not quite as chunky.
This one’s sire might have been a concrete building block. He has great coloration, but is big and hefty. If our cat Micah is the feline equivalent of the dancer, Fred Astaire, Tonka is our Arnold Schwartzen-whozitz. Like a muscle-builder, he has no neck and short vocal cords, so he has the tiniest, squeaky little meow. Someone adopted him, but for reasons unknown, gave him up.
The Humane Society has cages placed outside, so that people can at least leave unwanted animals there, instead of just abandoning them. The staff came in one morning, and he was the catch of the day. They have struck a deal with several of the local pet-food stores to feed, water and care for cats, display them and try to get them re-adopted. It works!
The daughter had gone to a nearby outlet to get food for her pets, and seen him. When she called to arrange to be taken shopping, she gushed about how great a cat he was. Like the damned fool I am, I let the son drive her and the wife one Saturday morning. Instead of dropping her at her home when they were done, and returning the wife here, they all ended up at the pet food store.
The next thing I knew, the son was home with instructions that I bring a cat crate and return to the store. We were already a couple of cats over our quota, and if I bring along a cat crate, I’ve already admitted defeat. I went to pick up the wife (And only the wife), without the crate.
Isn’t he wonderful?
Look at him! He’s so strong and handsome.
(Less than no comment. Brad Pitt is strong and handsome, but I don’t want to take him home either.)
Where’s the cat crate?
I didn’t bring it.
We can’t take him home without a crate.
(Now you’re catching on.)
And the clerk says, “No problem. We have temporary, cardboard, cat crates that just fold out.
(Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!)
He’s the biggest of the bunch, and at the bottom end of the pecking order. Even our little female, Contessa, half his size, can run him up the stairs, or up onto the tall feeding box. Then again, she’s raised several litters of kittens, and has learned not to take shit from any of them.
He’s a placid cat, and almost as much a loner as I am, often found (accidently) on the powder-room mat, or the basement landing. He willingly accepts being picked up, which none of the other three do. He’s used to being picked up by right-handed people, and will often try to scramble over to the left shoulder, if picked up ‘wrong’.
While he doesn’t have much to do with the other three cats, with his humans he’s very loving, and sometimes very demanding. When the son sits to read, he crosses his one leg. Tonka will jump up and settle into the hollow at his knee. When I read, he often jumps up. I will lean back, let him plant his butt on my ample belly, and lie against my shoulder.
Once there, he nuzzles my ear, and purrs into it, and I purr back. He rubs his face on my books and eyeglasses, marking them with his scent to identify them and me as ‘his.’ He also licks my mouth and moustache. I think I’m being groomed, although he may just be checking what I had for lunch.
We didn’t need a fourth cat – any more than we needed the third – or even the second, but, sucker that I am, I can’t imagine life without him. We do what little we can, to make life a bit better for as many animals and humans as we can. 😀