Wednesday, January 19, 2005

 

I Miss The Chonger


Chonger & Me
Originally uploaded by Blind Orange Julius.
I suppose I was taught to be a cat hater. My dad never cared for cats, not that he was overly cruel or anything, but cats were definitely not welcome around our house. He took great delight once as he turned on our underground sprinkler system, startling a cat that was laying on one of the sprinkler heads. It was the first time I'd ever seen a cat fly. The cat flew out into the street and knocked a passing neighbor kid off of his bike.

So maybe I didn't grow up with a father who was the cat lovers' poster boy. And, in all fairness, who can blame him? Cat's are nosey and they don't listen........ever. We had dogs, who generally offer unconditional love. Cats are affectionate, but only on their terms. If a cat doesn't want anything to do with you, there is nothing you can do to make it come to you. Perversely, if you want nothing to do with a cat, it is all over you. Hard to love animals indeed.

At the beginning of 2001, the place I was living in was sold out from under me. Unable to find a place to live, a friend offered me a room in his two bedroom apartment. There was, of course, a hitch. He had 3 cats.

The oldest was Cheech. Cheech is very set in his ways, he's lived with Derek so long, he just figures that's the way things should always be. Any disruption, i.e., a new roommate, and he's out to make trouble. Before I moved anything into my new room, Cheech marked the room as his. At least he didn't get any of my stuff. All in all, though, Cheecher didn't much care for me, and over the next couple of years had very little to do with me. Given a chance, I'm sure he would have pissed on anything he thought was mine, but a bedroom door that closed kept that from happening.

Pegasus was the youngest. Pegs still had a lot of kitten in him when I moved in, which actually made him a lot of fun to be around. Still, he had little things he did that would just drive me up the wall. He would lick plastic shopping bags if they were left lying around. That may not sound to annoying, but it was constant, he wouldn't stop licking until you physically took the bag away from him. I never understood the fascination. He was pretty bad about getting into my stuff, too. Still, you just sort of learn to live with a cat.

Then there was Chong. When I moved in, Chonger was easily the most annoying. He followed me everywhere, cried when he didn't get attention, always tried to eat anything I ate, was constantly under foot and was always climbing on my stuff. It was infuriating! That damn cat was driving me insane.

My mornings would usually begin with the Chonger scratching at my door. Not that it necessarily woke me, but it was infuriating that the stupid cat just had to be involved in anything I was doing. He'd follow me to the bathroom, then out to the kitchen while I made coffee. After that he'd follow me to my computer and sit right behind me while I checked my email. Eventually he'd try to climb on my CPU or, worse yet, walk across my keyboard while I was trying to type. Why did this animal have to be involved in every little thing I did?!?!?

This happened everyday! Then one day while I was reading my email, I just reached behind me while he was crying and I petted him. He rubbed up against me. I scratched his back. He purred. Things started to change for me.

If Chonger came by while I was eating, what do I mean if, when Chonger came by I started giving him a little something. The guy loved pretzels. Once, while drinking a beer, he jumped up on my lap. I dipped a finger in my beer, offered it to Chonger, who seemed quite happy to taste such delicious nectar. A cat who likes pretzels and beer? Maybe I was all wrong on this cat thing.

That probably did it. Having just bought my first digital camera, Chonger became my primary subject. I can't tell you how many pictures I have of my boy, enough to make a movie to the SRV song "Scuttlebuttin'" which I retitled "Chongerbuttin'".

You see, Chong has a big butt, along with a love of pretzels and beer, something else we have in common. Maybe that's not so surprising. Chonger doesn't run very well either, his butt end keeps trying to get in the front. And when he strayed to far from home on the rare occasions I let him outside, watching him try to run would get me laughing hard enough that I couldn't ever stay too mad at him.

Before I knew it, the little guy meant a lot to me. I'd warmed to Cheech and Pegs too, but Chonger and I had something special. He was my buddy. We spent a lot of time together. When he would crawl into my lap, I wasn't annoyed any more, I was quite pleased. The photo to the right isn't staged, Chonger crawled up on my belly after I came in from a bike ride. My camera was sitting on the coffee table, so I snapped a picture. A print of that photo was the first thing I put on the wall of my new appartment when I moved.

I see it every day, and think of the special and very unlikely relationship that I had with this guy.


BOJ

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