Welcome Home, Catsy

Meet Catsy, the newest member of our household. Actually, she won't come any closer than the deck—yet. But gimme time. As you may know, my beloved Hank the Cat is respectfully named after Mr. Hank Williams, Sr. When he started getting regular social calls from this raven-haired beauty, I told Dave we should name her Patsy Cline. He said "Catsy" would be more appropriate. There you go. Catsy was rail-thin when she showed up, and as for her coat—well, let's just say this scrappy kitty was in serious need of a trip to the Tres Semme hair salon. But now she has discovered the joys of Fancy Feast and is looking fitter by the day. Catsy does not have a dainty appetite. Even now, when she knows she can count on me for breakfast, dinner, and dry food in between, she will eat anything that isn't moving—all of her food and anything Hank leaves over, along with any snacks she can cajole out of me with that stare. One of my cousins is surely laughing at me right now. I don't believe in calling loved ones out on my blog, so for the puposes of discussion, we'll just call her "Kathy Rowe Elliott of Daphne, Alabama, mother of two, grandmother of one-and-a-half, graduated from CVA." There. I think I've done all that could be expected to protect her anonymity. Kathy says I have turned into Aunt Eva, who was the most devoted animal lover in our family. Aunt Eva had a dog named Poochey, whom she adored. Every time Kathy hears me carrying on a conversation with Hank the Cat, she'll say, "Well, listen to Aunt Eva talking to Poochey!" I would defend myself if I had a leg to stand on, but I don't. Several years ago, Hank had another stray friend, even more skittish than Catsy, whom I named Leota. I tried everything to coax her into the house. One summer night, I had left the kitchen door open so she would come in for supper. Our kitchen opens into the living room, where I was playing the piano. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Leota slowly walk toward the music, lie down at the edge of the living room, and do something she almost never did in the presence of humans . . . relax. As I recall, she was particularly fond of "Harlem Nocturn." Once you've played the piano for a cat, there's really no helping you. I guess I just think there's a special kind of joy that comes from making an animal happy, from watching a dog or a cat transform from hungry and scared to couldn't-eat-another-bite and ain't-it-good-to-be-here. And as for Kathy? Who is she kidding?! That woman has personally given medical attention to a wounded SQUIRREL! I guess the two of us were destined to serve on the board of trustees at Club Poochey. And that would make Aunt Eva mighty proud.

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love it, tooooooooooo cute :)
OH and by the way, gave my boss a copy of "your" cookbook, she loves it and has made several of the dishes, most recently was a gumbo, she said it was GREAT ! ! ! !

Posted by: candace hicks | May 31, 2013 at 08:57 PM

Thanks, cuz! We'll just pretend that I personally developed all of those recipes. I'm sure the foods staff at Southern Living won't mind a bit:) xoxo!

Posted by: Valerie | June 01, 2013 at 04:34 PM