Chance - A True Dog Among Cats

CHANCE 1996-2011

It is no secret that I have no love of cats. This is, no doubt, one of the gifts I received from my mother. Her disdain and disgust for the creatures was legendary, even going into the vapors whenever she saw one. Her "schtick" evoked laughter from everyone and she played it up to the hilt. We were dog lovers right out of the gate. Sandy, a beige Cocker Spaniel was the first Blythe pet followed by Archie, a Boxer mix, them Magic, followed a Samantha, both AKC Boxers.

But I digress. Invariably the kids became lovers of cats through the same mechanism as I, their mother. In 1996 Mackenzie brought home Chance, a relative newborn from the Donahue's. The irony is that she asked my permission to bring it home, something of a novelty in and of itself, and secondly, I agreed. So there you go. What father can say no to their 10 year old daughter? So, Chance entered the family and like most things with hearts a' beating, it imbued itself on our historical and emotional DNA.

I have now devoted two paragraphs to a cat and the reason there is a third is because this cat was kind of special. It was actually more of a dog than a cat. This cat fetched. It didn't fetch well but occasionally it would fetch just like Lassie. And it would roll over on command. OK, maybe not on command, but it would quite often, when rubbed, rollover and do the 'crappie flop', something not all cats do. It also liked "rough stuff". It would walk over to me if my arm was hanging which was my cue to rough it up on its back.

Chance had a psychological affinity with wastebaskets. In the evening hours she would go to various wastebaskets and find crumpled paper and mew like cats do with their newborns, and bring out to the hallway. Wads of refuse would be spewed about in some weird Freudian//Fellini litter ritual. Only in the past couple of months did this routine end. And then we saw that age had caught up with her and realized her end was near.

That's the best I can do. My detestation for most things feline won't allow me to compare it to a dog with equal passion, however, as these things go, Chance was OK. She was more than OK, in fact. I believe cats are the French of the animal kingdom. Stuffy, aloof, lazy, and rude. But every so often something singular emerges. Chance was a breath of fresh air and I will miss her. "S'y prendre bien" and sleep well.

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