A Story of Two Cats and a Love/Hate Relationship

First came Jake.

He was from the streets, built like a tank, with a slightly chewed ear. We got him from a rescue because I thought my dog, Ruby Tuesday Queen of Mars, needed a furry companion, and she had made friends fine with a neighbor’s cat.

However, Ruby only wanted to herd Jake around, which he didn’t appreciate. He reciprocated first by eating Ruby’s food while she stood over him, perplexed. Second, after Ruby herded him up the stairs, Jake turned around and hit Ruby with a mean right hook. She bounced down the stairs and landed with a thump. That’s when we named him Jake La Motta, after the boxer.

Orange cats, I’m told, are grounded and deliberate in all they do. They prefer calm. They don’t like strong emotions and will not hesitate to tell you when they aren’t happy. (That sounds like all cats to me.)

Jake loved to go on walks and took to his leash quickly. When I wanted to go home, I’d text Steve to stand on the porch and call Jake back. Jake would charge home, with me running as fast as I could alongside. Jake was a man’s cat.

When Ruby died and seemingly vanished from the house, Jake was upset and blamed me, even though they weren’t bosom buddies. They had reached a tentative truce. I was a mess when Ruby died, with daily sob fests on the couch or floor. Jake was unsettled by this and demonstrated that he did not appreciate Ruby going away, NOR did he like these strong emotions. He did this by attacking me when I was trying to have a good cry on the floor. All cat owners are familiar with the “rabbit kick.” That’s what he did to my arms.

I adored him, though. My husband seemed to have a special bond with Jake. Jake allowed Steve to flip him in a circle and would settle by his side for a good nap. There was generally no room in the lazy boy, but Jake was a cat, so he could fold himself in half and be perfectly comfy.

Or he’d manage to lie on top of Steve, and there he would snore away the evening.

He didn’t have moves like Jagger, but if he was walking away from you, he had a distinctive John Wayne swagger.

He was happy to be off the streets and content to be an indoor cat. We do have a walled courtyard where he would lie in the sun. Evenings were spent watching tv with Steve or cuddling up with him.

He was a basic bunch of cat. Boxes were played with. Paper balls fetched. Effortlessly leaping onto the counters, he treated himself to leftover bacon fat. Computer work was interrupted often.

Then came Zsa.

Zsa was a stray living under a trailer. We got her when she was seven months old. We were told she was deaf. White cats often are, but sometimes, if they have Heterochromia (two different colored eyes), they have hearing on the green eye side. She wasn’t that lucky.

Looking through cat breeds, she looked the most like a Turkish Angora. In Turkey, white cats with heterochromia are considered good luck. I just thought her eyes were captivating.

Her meows were sirens. How did such a noise come from a little cat? It seemed since she couldn’t hear her meows, she raised the volume enough to vibrate her skull. And our’s.

Her name came from Zsa Zsa Gabor because Miss Gabor loved her jewels, and Zsa had eyes — one sapphire and one emerald. She also had a mysterious side.

We introduced Jake and Zsa slowly, as he was twice her size. For him, it was love at first sight. Soon they were canoodling.

Jake enjoyed grooming her.

Often, she would bring in things from the courtyard unawares.

In the above photo, Zsa is sporting the latest in Butt Modesty Wear. Easy to do in the fall with that fur. She brought in ants and spiders as well as leaves. And slugs.

She wasn’t an ordinary cat in the sense she didn’t sit on boxes or newspapers. She didn’t jump on counters but tried to reach them as she grew.

She and Jake enjoyed a good relationship.

When we moved, they explored their new place with caution.

But, soon, they were canoodling again.

Then Jake decided to take the relationship to the next level. He would start with the usual grooming. Then he would advance to his version of humping. He was neutered, but that made to difference. He would try humping her head, her back, whatever was closest.

Zsa objected to this. Then the battles began. Jake would chase, and she would run, hiss, and finally flip over, claws out. There were never any injuries, but it was alarming to hear in the middle of the night. Or during the day. A pillow tossed at them would break it up.

Then, though, they would make up, and the cycle would start all over again,

When Jake died, I was sure Zsa would be bereft. She was not. She had me all to herself and didn’t have a 16-lb cat trying to hump her. (Jake was bonded with Steve, and I was connected with Zsa.)

She went on to live several more years and bonded even more with my mom.

She died last October.

Ruby Tuesday, Queen of Mars; Jake La Motta, Order of the Orange; The Divine Miss Zsa Zsa — I salute you! The house is empty without you.

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