The Ghost, The Clyde, and the Clifford
This week’s column seems almost too easy. I should have to exert myself to write a column. A column about cats is like plugging the USB end of a cord into my Google docs via laptop and the USB-C end directly into the port behind my ear, then downloading the data.
It’s just too easy. The current line-up consists of the Ghost, the Clyde and the Clifford.
Lizzie is the ghost. She entered into our family as an apparition by some hay bales out in the yard. It took about 3 months of feeding on faith to see her up close. Then better than a year of progressively feeding her closer to the house until she finally walked through our door. She is not a ghost, but she started that way. I have petted her only one time outside the house, however indoors she sits on our laps and even parks herself on my chest when I’m watching television.
Although she grew up wild, her manners are impeccable. Her story was so similar to Laine, who was also feral but eventually spent her life at our home. She also began her relationship with us in the hay bales.
Clyde is so named because he is cool. I know of no song more cool than Waylon Jennings’ “Clyde” and that is why he is so named. Clyde arrived at our farm soon after our cat, Magoo, had passed. Twitch was the only cat we had left and we thought maybe we were going to be a single-cat family. Clyde showed up one day like he had always lived here. I started making plans for how we would tame him and told Lisa about my detailed plan. Lisa went outside and took a golf cart ride.
That ride ended in the yard where Clyde jumped on the golf cart then followed Lisa up to the porch and crawled up on her lap. The second she touched him, he claimed us. Lisa said, “I think we have a cat!” Clyde’s manners are non-existent, he does whatever he wants and we are fine with it.
Clifford is named after Clifford Lindquist who once owned our place.
He is Lizzie’s kitten and was born in the wall of our barn. We thought it would be nice to have a reason for this house to hear Clifford’s name again which is why he was so named. Clifford is the sweetest little cat and is Lisa’s baby. He mews in the sweetest way when he wants to sleep on her lap. He happily winds himself around my legs when he wants attention and Lisa is not available.
You know we lost Nellie last December. She had just found her spot in our herd of cats. Her story started out abandoned along a road and ended with knowing safety, love and freedom from want at our home. Her untimely death was part of a plan that I do not understand, however we focus on the beautiful moments we had with this little ball of fluff.
Here’s what I know about cats. When you reach out to pet a cat and they accept you, it is magic. When a cat sits on the top of a chair backrest, it is so comforting. Lisa and I sit together on a recliner loveseat, sometimes all three cats sit with us. It is so much fun, almost like we are all in a tiny, well-stocked boat, floating on calm seas as we forget the rest of the world exists. It may not be heaven, but until I find out what heaven is like, it’ll do.
