Big Daddy

I sat down to write a post about grammatical faux pas, but this happened instead.  Grammar will have to wait.

Let me preface this post by pointing out the "imagination" tag I have put on it.  The things that go on in my head are often ridiculous, highly unlikely, and rather fantastical.  Nevertheless, I can't control what comes into my head, and well, my imagination is more fun than real life, anyway.

In fact, I am writing this post so you will see just how overactive my poor brain really is (in case you haven't already figured it out).  Believe me, I am well aware that the situation I am about to outline is all but implausible, so spare me any scathing comments, please.

Now, then.  I have mentioned before that I have two cats, whom I call Thing1 and Thing2 on this blog just to keep you less confused.  I got these cats as a birthday present from my across-the-way-neighbor (NumberEight), and from my apartment complex in general.  That's actually a rather boring story, so I will spare you the details.  The two things you need to know for purposes of this scenario are as follows:

1.) My two kitties are actually a mother and son, who were strays, roughin' it on Building A's back patio.

2.) When I brought them in, Thing2 was only six weeks old, and so small he could fit in the palm of your hand.  This led me to call him "Piccolo," which is Italian for "little."  Well, he's five months old now, and... let's just say he ain't so "piccolo" anymore.

I will admit to being very curious about Thing2's pedigree from day one.  I obviously know all about his mother, what with her living in my apartment and all.  But who is Thing2's daddy?

Thing1 is the sweetest cat.  She'll rub anyone's legs, if they get close enough, and especially if you venture into the kitchen.  If you feed her, or pet the sweet spot behind her right ear, you are her best friend for life.  She's a wonderful mommy, too, always loving on Thing2 and trying to keep him out of trouble (though she rarely succeeds at that).  And markings-wise, they are clones, stripe for stripe.

But, Thing1 is tiny.  She's almost two years old, and the only way she's growing is round, in the belly.  At five months of life, Thing2 is as big as she is, and topping her fast.  He's got a long tail and big paws that promise lots of growth to come.  Not to mention the vehement declarations of the vet, who vows that his rapid weight gain between check-ups indicates that he will be a "monster cat."

So where did he get his size?  From his good-for-nothing father, of course.  Naturally, I began to wonder what deadbeat feline got my Thing1 teen-pregnant, and then left them to fend for themselves.

For a while, I nursed the theory that a certain elderly neighborhood cat was responsible.  Butch hangs out in my apartment complex, enjoying the attentions of multiple cat-lovers, and the freedom to roam where he pleases (until he gets hungry).  Moreover, he looks like a darker, bigger version of Thing1, which would fulfill the genetic criteria I'd put up for Thing2's father.

That was before NumberEight debunked my theory by explaining that Butch has been fixed (which is a nice way to say "thoroughly de-sexed").

Never fear!  My mind doesn't put up with mystery for long.  I now have a new theory, which I shall unfold to you in the paragraphs below.

As usual, my theory requires a little back-tracking, in the interest of full comprehension.

This new theory of mine was born on Saturday.  If you live in The Music City, like I do, you know that Saturday was the first truly beautiful day in a long winter of gray and snow and cold (three things I do not even pretend to be friends with).  I woke at noon, and I knew immediately from the sunlight streaming through my windows that this was a day to be outside.

Too excited to follow normal wake-up routines, I popped out onto my balcony still in my PJs, and with bed-hair, too.  Thankfully, no one walked by.  It was perfect, just as I had suspected; the sun was shining, the air was a balmy sixty degrees and climbing, and I could hear the Siamangs from the Nashville Zoo just around the corner.

"Come to the zoo!" the monkeys seemed to say.  "Come and hang with your animal neighbors on this beautiful glimpse-of-spring day!" (As always, pun intended).

I could not ignore their puffy-chinned calls.

Along with Mom and Brother, I obeyed the Siamangs' orders and frolicked through the zoo all afternoon.  I saw five baby meerkats (so tiny!), the new habitat with the flamingos (so orange!), and I learned the meaning of the word "crepuscular" (so many syllables!).

But that's beside the point.  My latest theory regarding the paternal half of Thing2's parentage occurred to me as we were leaving, when we paused at the small habitat of the Eurasian lynxes.

Do you see where this is going?

The habitat of the Eurasian lynxes -- who have lived at the zoo since their kittenhood -- is located on the back edge of the zoo.  Since the zoo is a hop, skip, and a jump away from my little apartment, I started to fantasize.

Thing1, in her small, nimble way, could probably have gotten into the zoo at some point.  That is by no means unfeasible -- there are all kinds of un-caged animals running around the zoo.  So I proceeded from that thought as though it were factual.

When a young cat is in heat, any tomcat will do, but I was beginning to suspect that Thing1 might have a weakness for Asian guys.  Since the zoo keeps all their animals well-fed, I don't think a satiated lynx's first instinct would be to kill a smaller cat.  So the instinct that's second only to eating would be?... And if she was in heat, then maybe...

Well, now the idea was in my head.  And as I watched the wildcat, I began comparative analyses.  He held his head at exactly the same angle as Thing2.  He blinked slowly as he began to fall asleep, so regally, just like Thing2, and with the same contented squint.  That very squint covered the yellow-brown of his eyes, and Thing2's eyes are just a shade darker than Thing1's...

Then I started to think about all Thing2's little quirks, which I chalked up to him being a kitten.  And it's possible they are related to his youth and spryness, and will diminish as he grows and gets older.  But I feel that Thing2 is pretty darn impressive.

He has crazy climbing abilities, for starters.  And sometimes he gets these uncontrollable bursts of energy, and goes ripping through the house with his kitten eyes on ("ripping," being used very literally here).  He recently attacked my feet with a loud growl, slicing me open in several places, and by all accounts, his claws are unusually sharp.  Add to that the longer kitten fur that only just started to disappear, his rapid growth and projected size, his monstrous purr-box, and that long yowl he lets out sometimes...

I know, I know.  Stupid, ridonkulous, improbable, silly.

But I am still gonna keep an eye out for tufts on Thing2's ears.