The Red Tabby House Manager

Summary

The Red Tabby House Manager is a beloved and assertive cat who has become the unexpected caretaker and entertainer of a household dealing with the complexities of caretaking for a family member with ALS.

Abstract

The Red Tabby, affectionately known as Mars, Marzipan, Marsupiel, Marzirino, or MarMar, has quickly established himself as the de facto manager of his multi-generational home. With his confident demeanor and unique ability to vocalize his demands, he has won the hearts of his human companions. Despite his ample supply of dry food, he prefers canned food and isn't above manipulating the household members to get what he wants, including the author, who he has identified as the "weak link." The cat's presence is a source of comfort and joy, particularly for the author, who appreciates the early morning companionship and the emotional support the cat provides during challenging times. The Red Tabby's self-assured nature and his insistence on being included in all activities, such as watching Netflix, have made him an integral part of the family dynamic.

Opinions

The author holds the Red Tabby in high regard, viewing him not just as a pet but as a central figure in the household.
The cat is perceived as having a strong personality, being likened to a boss and described as "boss" by the millennials in the house.
The Red Tabby's ability to regulate the sound of his footfalls to demand attention is seen as a unique and amusing trait.
The author feels a special bond with the cat, particularly during the early morning hours, and believes the cat to be emotionally supportive.
The cat's observant nature and ability to communicate the needs of the author's husband through "cat telepathy" is both respected and slightly mystified by the author.
The Red Tabby's self-esteem and boundary-setting are admired by the author, who sees these qualities as something to aspire to in human life.

Keeps us all on track, and entertained

When the millennials arrived to live in the basement this year for a few months, before their residencies start this summer, they brought with them their Red Tabby cat.

Quickly he earned many nicknames in the household: Mars, Marzipan, Marsupiel, Marzirino, MarMar. Can you guess his real name?

He’s no shy kitty-cat, that’s for certain. He marches around as if he owns the place, swinging his hefty weight this way and that, tail high like a periscope. I’ve known many cats, but I’ve never known one who can regulate the sound of its footfalls to be demanding.

He’s “boss,” as the millennials say. Very quickly we all realized he runs the household. Pretty much. He greets every new visitor and sizes them up, then disappears for a bit to log them into some kind of secret cat computer.

When the millennials forget to stock his beloved canned food, he stomps angrily. If I could capture the sound and post it, I would.

He identified me as the weak link in the chain right away. If he runs out of canned food, he knows he can manipulate me into some butter, or half and half. Yesterday, tuna. His constant bowl of dry food is for sissies.

I’m the only one in the household up at the crack of dawn with him. It’s he and me greeting the day. For the first months I assumed he was up because he knew I would feed him. Then I had a mindset shift last week. Maybe he’s up to get some loving. Or maybe he’s convinced me of that.

He knows it’s good for me also, given everything going on in the household with caretaking of my husband.

It’s as if he decided he’d caretake me.

Only in the wee hours, not any other time, he lets me lift all 16 pounds of his red fur and whale blubber and he purrs like an overgrown kitten.

I bury my face in his soft fur and talk to him. When I put him down, he tangos around my legs, swiping my ankles seductively with his tail. This guy is an operator.

He’s observant, the way felines are. He knows when my husband needs something. He usually comes to find me and stares me down until I grawk it. Cat telepathy.

None of us get to lounge around and watch Netflix without him included. Not an option. Sometimes this involves changing our own seats, so that he can choose his. More cat telepathy.

If only all of us had such good self esteem in life. He apologizes for nothing. He knows his contributions to the household, and expects to be fairly compensated. He maintains his boundaries.

Thanks Mario. You showed up at exactly the right time.