Cattywumpus -- or is it spelled catywumpus? -- is the name my cat had when
we adopted him from the local dumb friend's league. I thought it was merely
a nonsense word, but I have since learned that while it is considered a
non-word (mainly by omission from just about any dictionary), it has
acquired a meaning over time. Perhaps it's time Webster added the word to
its repertoire. From what I've learned the non-word is supposed to mean
"twisted" or "off kilter," or even "weird." Being that the first time I
ever heard it was when I got my cat, I will forever associate the word with
him. He is a bit "off kilter," you might say...he's extremely talkative,
but he won't meow if you tell him to. He seems to communicate on a two way
level, even ensuing in the occasional argument with me. When I first got
him, he begged and pleaded for human food from the refrigerator, balking at
the dry cat food I gave him. I began to immediately sympathize with him and
felt thoughts of "Tuna" spontaneously appear in my head. Sometimes I think
he's telepathic, or maybe I'm just really empathetic. In either event I
didn't have any tuna and gave him some rotisserie chicken, which he wolfed
down voraciously. I make him eat the dry food during the day because he has
plaque issues...I'd brush his teeth, but he's pretty damn unwilling to have
his mouth involuntarily opened.
When we got him, he was already declawed. This was one factor in choosing
him; my girlfriend and I spent about a month's salary each to buy our couch,
our most prized and useful possession. Declawing a cat is cruel, and I'd
never do it myself, but I have no qualms about adopting a cat upon which the
deed has already been done. When we got him we were informed that he was a
runaway who had been in the shelter for a couple months. I wondered why no
one came to find him; why would you not search long and hard for such an
affectionate cat, especially after having spent money to rip his claws out?
We chose him because he was outrageously mellow and affectionate. Every
other cat practically ignored us and hissed at or ran away from the caged
kittens, who, due to overcrowding, were forced to occupy the "get to know
your future pet" room. He was completely oblivious to their existence; he
even walked by their cage and had his fur snagged by a particularily
rambunctious kitten's outstretched paw, and he thought nothing of it.
We were told that declawed cats should never be let outside on their own,
which was fine with us because we live in an apartment and I dreadfully fear
losing a cat to one of the irresponsible idiot tenants in the parking lot.
The exact quote of the shelter guy was "Even a squirrel could take him out."
We were also told that declawed cats generally have behavioral problems,
particularily biting issues, because they are essentially emasculated and
have no other way of asserting their authority. They gave us some basics on
training him not to bite, but months later he still likes to attack an
unsuspecting hand whenever possible. He's incredibly affectionate and
personable, but he always seems to reach a point where he has the
irresistible urge to bite. Oh well, I'd rather be bitten than scratched
with long, vicious claws that just spent two minutes rummaging around in a
litter box.
I've always loved cats, and he is no exception. When I come home at night,
he's in the window looking right at me as I park my car hundreds of feet
away in the lot. If my girlfriend is home at the time, she actually notices
that he goes to wait at the window just shortly before I'm even there yet.
He immediately begins to cry for attention and scurries off into the
bedroom, because his favorite thing to do is sleep next to us while we
sleep. Unfortunately I'm not ready for bed yet at 6:45pm, so he must settle
for a petting session instead. He's such a lovable bastard, but inevitably
will make a bite attempt, especially if you wave a hand in front of his
face. My girlfriend has trained him to not bite her (as much), but I think
that aggression-repression just makes him more likely to bite me instead.
He still digs human food more than anything else, particularily Chunk Light
Tuna. Albacore isn't really his thing. I feel really bad making him eat
dry food anymore, simply because food seems to be his greatest pleasure in
life. He just hates the dry stuff, and generally it contains rendering (see rendering!@#)
by-products that include other hapless cats and dogs, leading me to despise
it myself. He does like to eat newspaper and cardboard box corners, or at least
insists on chewing on them.
The funniest yet saddest thing about him is how he must entertain himself.
Sometimes I think we should get another cat, but the apartment is so damned
small... I let him outside for brief periods, but can't let him wander on
his own. I have bought him countless cat toys, but he has more fun batting
a pellet of dry food across the floor than he does playing with one of the
fake mice he owns. Every once in awhile he will just rile himself up and
tear through the living room just to get some exercise. He can willfully
excite himself and puff up like a cornered, vicious tiger, for no reason but
to have fun. He makes the weirdest gutteral howls and growls when he's
riled up like that, and he really enjoys playing the part of the vicious
attack-cat. My girlfriend constantly harps on me not to encourage his
biting, but I can't help but let him be a cat. Every cat with claws I've
ever owned would scratch me from time to time, and like I said, I'd rather
be bitten than scratched, anyway. He's had a few bad moments with my
girlfriend where he outright attacks her out of the blue. If she raises a
hand to swat him away, he raises his paw in self-defense. It's kind of
hilarious... but she doesn't think it's funny.
So maybe that's why they called him Cattywumpus. He's weird, extremely
affectionate yet vicious and violent in the blink of an eye. Or maybe it
just sounded cute, and had the word "cat" in it. I wonder if he ever bit
the animal shelter people. I wonder what his story is, anyway. Perhaps
after being declawed he simply ran away in rage. Perhaps he was always
vicious and when he still exhibited this side after having had his claws
removed, his owners disowned him and kicked him out. Or maybe he was nice
and friendly but tore up their furniture, so they declawed him and created a
monster with an insatiable urge to wage war on his oppressors. Despite his
biting habits, he is otherwise pretty civilized. He has not destroyed a
single thing in our house. Once, we accidentally locked him in the bedroom for hours,
forcing him to relieve himself -- he pooped on an ad-leaflet and actually
turned the page to cover up his neatly packaged mess. If we don't clean his
catbox to his satisfaction, he'll use the bathtub, which is inconvenient for
us, but at least it's not the couch. And he really hates having cat litter
in his paws, so we lined his cat box with corduroy. Now he spends more time
rubbing his paws on the lining to clean his paws than he does doing the
deed. If the cat litter accumulates and we fail to sweep in due time, he
will sweep it himself with his paws. I think he is closer to human than
many humans.