 Bedcat | |
When you have four cats, it's always a mystery who the Bedcat is going to be. Bedcat is a very important job for any housecat, signifying a mutual trust between the cat and the occupants of the bed. The cat can act as a lookout for the sleeping humans, guarding them from vicious strangers. They can be a source of warmth, and they can absorb warmth from their simian companions. Quite a lot of damage can be done to a human by a creature with sharp claws and vicious fangs, and the same goes for small furry creatures by massive hairy primates anywhere from one hundred to two hundred pounds their superior - betrayal of the trust must never happen. Especially against their toes... Bedcats always lose when they decide to play with the sheet-covered toes of their benevolent hosts.
Before I became the second human-creature to occupy this residence, Edloe was the resident Bedcat. Edloe is nearly twenty pounds of cat stuffed into a 10 pound shaggy sack, bitchy to the core and constantly demanding attention be paid to her. She is very close to her mommy, and when she isn't being a gigantic circulation-hampering lapcat she's very skilled at taking up as much square footage of bed as felinely possible.
Frisky would sometimes make an appearance as Bedcat. He's a fluffy orange cat who is extremely quiet and sweet and usually minds his own business off on one corner of the bed. He was handed off to my wife by someone who was leaving town and couldn't get him out from under their house. He spent his first two weeks of captivity under the sheets of the bed... the ultimate expression of Bedcat.
When he finally found his courage and explored the new territory, he could share the role of Bedcat with Edloe, and other times she'd bitch at him and chase him off. He'd bat the blinds demanding to be let out every so often when he couldn't get any sheet time. One time, he woke up my wife when the living room had caught fire from a cheap candle and an all-wood coffee table. If he had been Bedcat that evening, he'd probably have never had the chance to be Alarm Cat.
Then, when I arrived on the scene, I was just coming over for occasional overnight visits and extended visits on the weekend. Edloe didn't like me all that much, so she'd either relinquish her title as Bedcat to Frisky or she'd take up residence near the bed to drive Frisky off and assume her role once I woke up and headed for the shower or porch.
Once I made the move to permanently reside here, I brought my two little darlings along. However, we had our own little Bedcat struggle going on. Piper was the first of my cats, and from the time she was a kitten she insisted on sleeping in the bed with me when she wasn't batting her noisy toys around. After getting rid of the noisy toys and getting quiet ones, she took to walking the headboard all night long. Eventually, I got her to adapt her sleep cycles to mine and everything was just fine between me and my crazy little tortie.
Until Nardo arrived, that is.
Nardo (originally named Orlando, after the Marmalade Cat series of books as well as the Shakespearean character) was dumped on me by an ex-girlfriend who was leaving town for good. Nardo was a pariah cat, beaten down by Hamlet the Oppressor and never given a chance to become a Bedcat. His orange classic tabby stripes would ripple with fear at the thought of being discovered by the hideous black beast, and despite his extra toes and claws he had a hard time defending himself. Now that he was a part of a new cat-mix, he started off cautious and slowly but surely insinuated himself into the Bedcat cycle. Piper took to sleeping in a sock bin by the bed while Nardo triumphantly took the title. He even started playing fetch again with his toys, leaving me covered with a heap of various stuffed creatures in the mornings when he felt I wasn't keeping up my end of the bargain.
By bringing my cats and her cats together, we now had a little turf war on the scale of Israelis vs. Palestinians. Piper took to hiding behind the TV, Nardo stayed behind the couch, and Frisky and Edloe took their potshots as best as they could. Eventually, both of mine got braver with time and started exploring the place. Nardo took to the porch and the fence like a champ, eventually demonstrating his skills as an expert hunter. Piper found a favorite hidey-hole-place up in the closet among the ballcaps where she could comment on morning clothes selections.
Edloe's tight reign on Bedcat was loosened with occasional forays by Nardo into the bedroom. At first, he stayed close to me, but eventually he warmed up to my wife and started snuggling close to her feet. Edloe sometimes would try to get up on the bed, and she and Nardo would duke it out for territorial rights. Only one would remain, the loser driven off to rest in my leather chair or a couch cushion.
Frisky soon became a pariah, chased by Nardo and driven to the back of the couch or behind Gina's stuffed chair. Rarely, he'd get brave and harass his big sister Edloe for sport. Only when I'd carry him to the bed for a shift as Bedcat did he log any Bedcat hours. With a simple cat-sheep bleat by Nardo, he'd perk up and head for the shadows instantly.
Nardo will sometimes spend the whole day sleeping on the bed, waking up to a chorus of meows and howls while he flips and flops around for his own amusement. We call him Flippy Kitty when he does this. If he gets really into flipping around, he flops off the side of the bed and meows his head off.
Piper occasionally makes a Bedcat appearance, usually when I knock off a little early for a quiet read in bed. She still has a psycho-kitty problem where she runs around like a banshee, and more than once I have woken up to a sheen of blood on my face from a wayward claw slicing into a cheek or eyebrow. Sometimes, she curls up at my feet or stands watch for Nardo so that he can keep his entire shift as Bedcat.
When I wake up, Nardo and Piper usually follow me to serenade me in the bathroom, and that's when Edloe usually lumbers over to the footlocker, leaps up, and then takes the second leap to the bed. Fat cats jumping are a funny sight. it's sort of like watching a tubby canned ham-sized raccoon cresting a rotting log. I suppose a cameo appearance in the morning as Bedcat counts for something.
Recently, our neighbor Bob has taken to letting his tail-less cat Rufus out for strolls, and Rufus' first conquest was our apartment one evening. We didn't know he was Rufus then. I called him Lucky because he was lucky to survive our four cats of varying tolerances for strangers. I woke up to find a strange midnight black cat sitting there, meowing hello to me and rolling on his back.
Visiting Bedcats? Bedcat Exchanges? Federal Bedcat Protection Programs? Since when did this happen? Union rules specifically precluded any scab activity on the part of filling a Bedcat shift, and Rufus was hastily shooed out the door. When he's out, he's usually sitting on the opposite fence, relaxing and greeting passers-by or showing off his pretty new rhinestone collar.
And so that's how it's been. Nardo and Piper getting the lion's share of Bedcat roles, Edloe playing cleanup, and Frisky relegated to boring his way into the couch bottom and hiding for fear of his furry little life. I'm sure that over time, the balance will shift here and there and maybe even Frisky will resume the occasional voluntary appearance.
Time will tell, I suppose.  |
When Poe ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.
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