The Tough Guy

Kristine over at Rescued Insanity is on a mission to prove cats are just as awesome as dogs. I can’t really disagree. I love cats. I grew up with two cats. And I’ve already pointed her toward this post about Ringer, the orange tabby cat who may have been my grandmother reincarnated. The only reason C and I don’t have a cat now is because he is allergic to them, and we’ve still been tempted. (We are prevented by all the cats in shelter where allergies are the reason they were given up. We couldn’t bear to do that.) In fact, I’ve so wanted a cat, that we had to get dogs small enough to fit in my lap, even though dog wise, I’m normally a big dog person. Of course, that makes Larry perfect for me because he’s a big dog in a small dog body.

But enough about dogs. This is a story about a cat.

Frisky was an outdoor cat. Technically, he belonged to a family in our neighborhood, who made sure to put food out for him and made sure he could get into their garage and that there was unfrozen water available for him in winter, but for the most part, Frisky was a neighborhood cat. He was not feral- he loved people. He put up with us kids better than my cats did. But that may have been because he always knew he could escape.

Frisky was a tough guy. He had to be. He was an outdoor cat in rural eastern Montana. Temperatures ranged from 40 below to 110 in the summer. We lived between a hill and a river, so had snakes going through the neighborhood anytime it wasn’t winter. Across the river was federal land. It was not uncommon for us to wake up to deer, bobcat, or even coyote tracks in our yards. Skunks lived in the area, too.

Frisky was the toughest animal in our neighborhood. None of the dogs were dumb enough to mess with him. He killed bats and mice and who knows what else. He liked people, liked being petted, but there was no way anyone was going to make him a house cat.

(As a side story, one time he accidentally got closed in his people’s house right before they left on vacation. My father had to break into their house in order to let him out.)

Anyway, Frisky was used to being the cock of the block so to speak. He had the confidence to take on anything and anyone. And we loved him for it.

New neighbors moved in next door to Frisky’s family. We did what we did back then and had a neighborhood barbecue to welcome them. These new neighbors had a ferret, and they brought him to the gathering on a leash.

Frisky was there (people, food, what wasn’t too like) and decided to introduce himself as the big man on campus to the ferret. After all, it was on leash, kind of like a dog might be. And ferrets aren’t native to eastern Montana. The ferret, being a ferret took a swipe at Frisky.

Now let me say, I lived in this neighborhood for over 10 years. Frisky was alive and well when I left.

The ferret took a swipe, and Frisky backed off. He wasn’t just the toughest animal in the neighborhood. He was the smartest, too.