CATS Chat: Melissa White & Peter Zuckerman Tell Tail Tales

Monday, 22 March 2010 13:35 | Written by Byron

CLAWS & WHISPERS: Thanks to all of you who shared stories about your cats with me. They were all amazing, outrageous, and downright fun. But I could only pick one winner to win tickets to tomorrow night's opening performance of CATS. And that would be Melissa White. Her story about Mika (below) not only made me laugh but also tugged at my heartstrings. I think it will do the same to you. I am also including a tale by Peter Zuckerman (above with his cat Big Z). He is a famed reporter, author and partner to Mayor Sam Adams. He's also a really good writer, and I wanted to share his story too. Enjoy!

Mika by Melissa White

My ex lived on a farm out in Clackamas County and one weekend they told me one of the feral barn cats had a litter of kittens. They thought of the cats as disposable yet essential members of the farm. Barn Cats were not fixed so they would have more feral kittens to keep the rodents under control and give the neighboring coyotes a snack and keep them away from their more precious livestock.

I understand the hierarchy of the farm it is so brutal but to a city girl like me, it broke my heart to see 6 lovely perfect kittens all of whom had a predestined fate to become coyote feed.

The slowest and tiniest of the litter was a runt with whom I met eyes and could not let go. I thought her black and white markings were so distinguished and unique. Her white face with black mask and black heart shaped nose was so lovely and her piercing green-yellow eyes had so much intelligence and promise. The thought of her being killed by a coyote or other predatory animal broke my heart and as she captivated me so, I adopted her.

(Mika's story continues, as does Zuckerman's and Big Z's, at the "read more" button below)

Her mask like facial markings reminded me of a raccoon and I dubbed her the feminine version of the indigenous term for masked one, by calling her Mika. We were inseparable. I adopted her while in college so I had a lot of free time and taught her words and voice commands and encouraged her to ask for what she wanted. To this day, I can determine by the type of meow she speaks, exactly what she wants and how she is feeling. I trained my cat to be free and express her wants and needs. Mika who was once the runt of the litter from a feral mother became an intelligent and trained member of my family.

Mika and I soon bonded and for the past five years have had an amazing journey. A few years ago I became very sick and was unable to work, Mika had some inherent knowledge of my illness and on days when my pain was particularly unbearable, my feline friend would sit on the part of my body in the most pain and knead. Most cats knead to fulfill some unmet kitten nursing need, but Mika had some sense of my pain and did her best to massage and warm the pain away when nothing else could.

As I recovered and got my strength back, we celebrated together, cranking up the music and dancing together. My sweet Mika loves dancing and singing and particularly loves to sit on my shoulder as I sing and dance with her.

My cat is savvier and more beautiful than any of the cats in the musical “CATS” but she does love it when I crank up the cd and sing along. Every day we celebrate life, sing, dance, and celebrate the hand we were dealt. As I type this she has a full tummy and is in a barbecue pork haze sleeping on the back of my desk chair.

When we met the first time, both she and I knew she was not destined to be a feral barn cat, for her tastes were refined and her demeanor meant for the more leisurely city life. She is now full grown, no longer a runt, she is outspoken, opinionated and recently had her Meyers-Briggs profile done, her ideal profession, according to her personality type would be a Dog Trainer. So, take that dogs.

Big Z by Peter Zuckerman

On a stormy night, I saw an gray, clipped-eared kitten drenched and shivering. What's a guy to do? I let him in, opened a can of tuna and soon fell asleep, leaving the front door open.

Later that night, I woke. Cats were everywhere -- under my bed, in the closet, on pantry shelves, under the kitchen table. Poop dotted the carpet, and remains of bread and compost were scattered all over the place. It stunk.

Freaked out, I grabbed two pots, banged them together and chased the cats out, scaring what seemed like hundreds out my front door. Phew. They were gone. I cleaned up the mess and went back to sleep.

But the next morning, one still remained -- the original gray kitten with half an ear whom I had given the tuna to. I still have Big Z, and now he's the first kitty of Portland!

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