Sunday, October 05, 2008

I Thought Elvis Loved Me

Our neighbours A & E took off a couple of weeks ago for a trip to Newfoundland. I volunteered to care for their cats and the many flowers in A's garden while they were gone. Elvis is a big, burly guy. Very handsome in his long blackish-grey coat, white ruff and white paws. He and his cattly sister Priscilla are the official park mousers. He's the cat who brought Sal the gift of a dead mouse a few weeks back.

Pris is a one-woman cat. No one but A can touch her. The entire two weeks I barely saw her. As soon as I came up the walk she dove out of sight and no amount of coaxing could entice her out.

On the other hand Elvis flew to me as soon as he heard my feet hit the porch. He wanted his daily dose of belly rubs and after a couple of days he turned into a fuzzy kiss dispenser. He told me in no uncertain terms that he wanted cat food and plenty of it. I gave him a meal of canned food every morning and left enough dry food for the two of them for the day. He said his Mama fed him canned food in the afternoon too, but I knew he was stretching the truth as freely as politicians do when describing tax cuts they've given seniors.

Well, A & E returned home yesterday afternoon. Priscilla was so glad to see her very own Mama that she abandoned her usual aloofness. She hung onto A, cried and snuggled with her for several minutes. Elvis was less enthusiastic and today he apparently decided he was going to move in with us!

He stood outside and yelled. "Can I come in?" till he must have been hoarse. He laid in the garden and talked to Sal. He stood on the step and scratched on the door. He gave me vigorous loving any time I went outside. He was soooo charming. He even tried to get into Sal's enclosure by squeezing between the frame and the wall but both he and Sal are far too fat to compress themselves through a two-inch opening.

At any rate, while Sal and Elvis are friends, territorial sovereignty is always at the forefront of any cat's brain. Sal was not enthusiastic about the prospect of Elvis invading his outdoor room. A bit of name calling and some soft slapping ensued, but they didn't unsheath their claws.

I had taken Elvis home three times before I realized what he wanted. We walked down the street, Elvis leading the way, tail high, and a big bounce in his step. I asked Anita if she'd given him his canned food for the day. She said she'd just gotten home from shopping and hadn't thought of it.

Well! She took out a can of food and a saucer. He danced and waved his front paws while she dished the food out, and he fell to as if he hadn't eaten for a month. There were two full bowls of kibble only steps away but hey...

A and I talked, he ate. Then he wrapped himself around her legs and gave her a nuzzle. He didn't follow me home. Turns out his "admiration" was just a bad case of cupboard love.

1 comment:

newwaytowrite said...

My pictures of your friend Elvis are blurry. But you see him regularly so it is not like you will forget him.