The following is a frequent occurrence in this house: I enter the bedroom where the boyfriend is visiting with the cat. He is putting his face close enough that she can bump her head up against his face.
He’s speaking softly in Italian to her, it sounds like he is cooing nice things into kitty’s ears, but upon listening closer, I hear he is speaking insults – calling her a stronza (a piece – as in piece of sh*t), fat, a rufiana (manipulator, like a flirt). Kitty has her eyes half closed. She doesn’t care one bit about the insults – she knows they are true.
She has a visitor who comes to see her every few days, a young male cat who makes his way through the fences and walls in the interior square the many apartment complexes surround. The terraces (patios) are partitioned off to the lower floor apartments in a strange puzzle; some owners have long, skinny terraces (like 100 feet long and 20 feet wide), some have L shaped terraces that the hooked end part is so impractical, people never use it, while others have tiny postage stamp size terraces no more than 8 feet by 4 feet, like us. It seems unfair but it’s been 100 years of negotiation for the interior spaces, so who knows the deals that were arranged.
We have some chicken wire-like stuff up against the 100 year old spiked iron fence that arises from the hip high, crumbling wall surrounding our tiny terrace from the vast expanse of the neighbor’s unused terrace. The visitor–I call him Mr. Cat–jumps up onto the wall and meows for Kitty. She’ll casually make her way over and jump up to sniff him. I’ve cut a hole in the chicken wire so I can feed Mr. Cat, even though I know he has an owner, because he showed up with stitches near his ear one day. The two of them can touch noses though the hole in the fence, though Kitty usually takes swings at him with her paw.
Kitty has no tail–none at all, not even a stump–and this not only leaves her butt exposes but evidently affects her ability to…well, get it all out. Sometimes she leaves presents the size of a Tootsie Roll, or even larger, around the house. But even more charming is that she will ask to get her butt wiped. Yes. She has a certain meow that is not “Feed me”, “Play with me” or “Pet me”, but is “My ass needs attending to”. When this cry is administered, usually when I am at my desk trying to concentrate, I’ll find a tissue near my desk or head to the bathroom (Kitty follows, she knows what she needs) and wipe off her business. It’s never bad, she is a clean cat, but sometimes she needs help. So she asks me.
The bedroom door must remain closed at night. Kitty loves food and is an indoor cat, so doesn’t get as much exercise as she probably needs. Oh, there are forays into the stairwell, practically daily, and she runs up and down the hall (nearly always with the hope of me going to her dish or the refrigerator). But if the bedroom door is left open, she will wake at dawn, find her food dish empty, and head straight for the bedroom where she will alight upon the bed and bat my face until I rise to put food in her dish. Kitty is now too fat, so the bedroom door remains closed.
Sorry Kitty, we need to add ‘maiale‘ to your list of names.