Herban Sprawl

Parents frequently muse about the differences in their children, noting that one is laid back while another is anxious, one always has a book open while another is bouncing a basketball, one eats anything you put on the table, another picks at food – People who have cats make the same observations. No two cats, littermates or not, are alike. As this first year of Herban Sprawl comes to a close, it’s time to write about my third fellow, Simon. He reminded me of this yesterday morning, but I started cleaning my office and that was that.

Even as a kitten, Simon was different, but we had no idea what we were in for. He lay, upside down in the crook of Grandpa’s arm. We thought we had a really laid-back cat. And we did, until the window perch became dislodged and overturned. For several weeks, Simon crept through the dining room, belly to the floor. He was never the same. Suddenly, the energetic kitten became suspicious, territorial and feisty.

At the same time, never have either of us had – mind you, between us, we’ve logged a number of felines – such an affectionate cat. Simon, in an amorous mood, will snuggle up and bestow kisses, head butts and paw pats that would melt the heart of the most avowed cat hater. Of the three, the most attached to his people is Simon. The morning after we’d returned from a week in Colorado, I discovered him under the covers, tucked against my stomach, a paw atop my hand.

The undisputed king of the back windows or the chief porch lobbyist, Simon patrols his perimeter with the fervor of a one-cat street gang. If there is going to be a stare-down, he leads the charge. Heaven forbid if one of the others wants in on the fun. He will hiss and box his brothers as though they are the enemy. Yesterday he was puffed to a fare-thee-well thanks to a neighborhood tabby who’d come by the yard for a fix. (I have mentioned that we are the neighborhood dealers, haven’t I? Our catnip is the best – just ask around, any cat will tell you the patch by the stone wall is some good shit, man.) Mr. Cat was going to sidle on down the steps to the back patio for a hit on the patch in the Detectives’ Garden, but he saw me standing at the window and made for the neighbor’s fence. Old Puff and Hiss wasn’t satisfied. He patrolled until he just had to have a nap.

He’s also the herb kitty. We noticed it when he hopped up on the bathroom counter after Big Kitty had brushed his teeth. The tea tree oil in the toothpaste drew him and when I walked into the bathroom, he was busy swabbing down BK’s beard and mustache! BK couldn’t stand it anymore and his amused, but tightly clamped, mouth broke open in a grin. Simon proceeded to swab his teeth! (Listen, we swap spit with cats every time we pet them, so no fair being grossed out!)  When I chop fresh basil in summer, my hands get a thorough washing with his rough tongue. All the things cats are supposed to hate, he likes. Basil is in the mint family, as is catnip. If you know your plants none of that is surprising. But limes?

He’s jealous of his siblings and even though he’s claimed ownership of a lap, a passing brother will receive a swat from above. Crabby Tabby will muscle one out of a warm nap site if it suits him. And just as he might be craving affection, he will turn around and snap with the jaws of a steel trap. (Neither of the other two bite us – maybe each other, but not their people.)

In the evening, he greets Big Kitty by a well-timed and executed leap to his thigh, whereupon BK will respond with a quick movement upward and maybe a steadying hand. Simon then settles around BK’s neck, where he nuzzles and grips with his paws. He’s been known to muscle in on my smooch for BK. Brat.

Visitors have a hard time distinguishing Simon from Barney, even though Simon has a bull’s-eye on his sides. He’s not as flabby, that’s for sure, and he doesn’t weigh quite as much, but he’s just as large. When he settles on my lap, my joints feel it, especially when I’m on the floor sitting pretzel style, reading the Sunday paper. He demands my undivided attention and will brook no excuses, making his displeasure known by means of retaliatory puddles on the kitchen counter. Luckily he hasn’t done that in a long time, knock on wood!

He rounds out the tribunal with his crabby nature one moment and kisses the next. Demanding and petulant, he claims ownership of us. Sharing is what others do. He manages us with the persistence of a border collie. The other two offer polite hints, but the Border Tabby routs us from whatever it is we are doing (You weren’t planning to sleep past five, were you?) and herds us to the food bowl.

Most onlookers would correctly assume that Big Kitty loves his boys dearly, but that he especially adores Simon. He’s the only one we got to name! He keeps us in line. It’s his job and he takes it very seriously!