Pets

The Little Cat Hated Me Until He Groomed My Hair into A Cat Spit Helmet

Dogs have owners. Cats have staff. I hadn’t made the cut.

“If cats could talk, they wouldn’t.” Nan Porter

We drove for a day and spent the night in a hotel to pick up my husband’s birthday present, a Maine Coon kitten he fell in love with on the Internet.

When we went to the cattery, we found that the cattery was a converted living room. There were kittens of various sizes everywhere. One kitten was smaller than the others and sitting by itself.

The introverted kitten was ours. The owner said that the reason the kitten was alone was that it was born in a litter of one. The kitten played with the other kittens sometimes but preferred to sit by himself.

When the owner pulled the kitten to the visiting area, it strolled past me like I wasn’t there and walked straight to my spouse. The kitten bumped his leg; he picked him up, and the cat was ours. I drove on the way home because the kitten snuggled in my husband’s lap.

Once home, it was clear this was my spouse’s kitten. Oh, I wasn’t mistreated, no yowling or scratching. They ignored me. My husband took care of the kitten. Food, water, brushing, and petting were mainly his tasks. I was back-up if he was late coming home. The kitten accepted my offers only if my spouse was not around, but he did not seek my attention. There was no time for him to waste dealing with the second-in-command. My husband named the cat The Lone Ranger in honor of his one kitten litter: Ranger for short.

Ranger curled next to my spouse at night on my side of the bed. Nightly, I removed the baby cat from between us and put him on the other side of my mate. Eventually, the kitten settled for sleeping on an extra pillow my spouse placed above his head.

Things continued in this way for months. Then one night, I was drained, having returned from a multi-week business trip. I fell asleep in my chair as I felt exhausted and ill. My spouse woke me up and gave me some chicken soup: his cure for any illness. Ranger perched on the arm of my chair and stared at me with enormous eyes. For the first time, Ranger bumped me with his head to receive a pet.

I took a shower and fell in bed. I don’t know when my spouse joined me. When I woke in the morning, I turned to kiss my spouse. He looked surprised and broke up laughing. Through his guffaws, he pointed and said, “Your hair.” I got out of bed and looked in the mirror. Ranger plastered every single strand of my hair to my head with cat spit. My hair was licked down so tight that it was shiny, like a hat. I touched the creation. It was hard as a rock.

What in the world? Laying on my pillow was Ranger loudly purring. I swear he had a satisfied smile on his cat face. He stretched out, having completed his task and turned over on his back. On my pillow.

Ranger worked all night to get the hair plastered to my head, then another couple of hours to complete the focused grooming to make sure my head was a hard helmet of slicked-down hair.

What could it do? I walked back into the room and laughed with my spouse. I picked Ranger up and gave him a snuggle. Ok, then. Thanks for the new hairstyle, but cat spit is not an approved hair tonic in this house.

After that, I was promoted in the cat system from totally ignored to barely tolerated. The cat was unwilling to accept me on my terms, so he made up his own. His terms were acceptable to me.

I give the creature credit; he did a great job creating the cat spit helmet look, but I did not wear it to work.

Toni Crowe retired as the Vice President of Operations to pursue her dream of being a writer. Toni has written six books. Her bestselling business book, ‘Bullets and Bosses Don't Have Friends’ won a Readers Choice gold award.

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