Kitty TV

Cassie enjoys the fruits of the labor of a predecessor. (Photo by Don Dale, 2011)

It took the late Atticus about two years to create the perfect slot for viewing the world outside.

By constantly, relentlessly, and deliberately pawing at one slat of the venetian blinds, he finally succeeded. One slat, at the perfect kitty viewing level, eventually broke under his steady assault.

Disregarding the fact of his mischief, I had to admire his dogged determination. For the next 18 years of his life with me, he enjoyed the fruits of his labor.

Atticus was not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but he was a beautiful cat. Solid white with green eyes, he was sweet-natured and loving. He was one of two cats I had at the time. The other was Boo, who was solid black and as sharp as a tack. Boo let Atticus do all the work of creating the viewing hole in the blinds, but he enjoyed the result as much as Atticus did.

Atticus was not always solid white. When I adopted him (and Boo) from the SPCA, Atticus had a gray streak on his forehead and another, much smaller gray spot, on his scrotum.

Which reminds me of a story.

Atticus was about six months old when I took him to the vet for a checkup. I had to wait for a few minutes, so I took him out of his carrier -- he always raised hell about being confined -- and let him sit in my lap, where he was far more content. An elderly woman with her Chihuahua in a carrier sat down two seats away from me. "What a beautiful cat," she exclaimed. "I really like that gray streak on his forehead. Is that the only gray spot he has?"

I considered the possible answers carefully and answered: "Yes, ma'am, it is."

After Atticus was neutered a few months later, the gray streak on his forehead was indeed the only non-white fur to be found on him.

Over the years, the gray streak faded away and Atticus was all white, all over.

Calico Cassie, my present cat, spends more time surveying the world through that slot in the venetian blinds than even Atticus and Boo did. Of course she doesn't realize what a lasting gift Atticus left behind for his successors. But she appreciates it.

Lately, I have been considering replacing the blinds. They've hung at the door for 25 years, and the hardware is beginning to fail.

If and when I do, I'll have to figure out a way for Cassie to survey the front porch. She is much too much of a lady to do on her own what Atticus did. (Or perhaps she isn't; I don't really know.)

I suppose I could deliberately remove a slat at kitty eye-level in the replacement blinds. Or maybe there's something I could do with a couple of paper clips.

I do know that doing nothing would be just too selfish -- not to mention disrespectful of Atticus's hard work so many years ago.