As Watchcat Collette reminded me recently, the 15-second rule when dancing one's cat around always applies, even when the music is as catchy as "American Top 40"'s mid '70s to early '80s closing theme, "Shuckatoom," or the Aragorn Ballroom Orchestra's "Theme From 'The Lord Of The Rings.'"
Fair enough. That's Collette's prerogative.
One day last year, after getting home from work, Watchcat Collette rubbed her face against my feet contentedly--and then bit each foot once.
That, in a nutshell, is her duality. She'll show you happy she is that you've returned and how cross she is that you went away in the first place.
When dancing a cat around, it's wise to respect her limitations. After 15 seconds of moving Watchcat Collette around in time to music, I know that's when the fidgeting--and possibly biting--will start, so all cat dances must be abbreviated ones. It's only right.
I've been under the weather for several days, and when feeling sluggish, it's comforting to slumber on the couch with Watchcat Collette nearby, slumbering away and purring.
After hours of this, I start to envy Watchcat Collette, as I remember that sleeping peacefully for hours is customary for cats.
What a pleasant life Collette has--and, by attempting to rest, I can capture some of that blissful life for myself.
I've had a recurring dream in which I'm sitting on a park bench, grousing about the state of the world to Watchcat Lily and Watchcat Collette. I ask them, "Well, what are you going to do, though, Lily? Whar are you going to do, though, Collette?"
Watchcat Lily then launches into a monologue in which her meowing, when translated to English, is, "Oh, I have problems myself. Did I tell you about the time recently when my guardian went downstairs to get the mail and left me alone for all of two minutes?"
Then, Watchcat Collette suggests a solution to life's irritants. Her meows-to-English translation is, "Bite your enemies. Bite them--or let me bite them!"
It amuses me that even in a dream, both cats stay true to their personalities.
Those who listen to records while their cat snuggles with them will likely relate to this: One side of an album ends. You'd like to flip it over and listen to the other side, or you'd like to put on another LP. Your cat, however, has taken the time to knead you thoroughly, settle in on you, and sleep blissfully. You don't want to risk disturbing her, especially considering that she has claws and tends to bite you.
How do you react? If you're like me, and your cat is like Watchcat Collette, you stay where you are, longer--sometimes hours longer--than you intended in silence.
Sometimes, it's just pragmatic to keep the peace.
For a while this afternoon, I thought I'd lost my cell phone. I pounded on counters and swore as I tried to find it. (Sidebar: If it's true that adversity reveals character, I'm not sure I like what this says about me. Actually, I think a more accurate expression would be, "Adversity reveals character during a person's most irritated state.")
As I ran around in a frenzy, Watchcat Collette noticed my angst and ran alongside me. I appreciated her respecting my ire and picking up on the situation's urgency. I'm sure that if she'd been allowed outside, she would have spotted the phone where I eventually found it--under the driver's side car seat.
At least, I'm sure she would have applauded.
Recently, I tried to reason with Watchcat Collette. When she kept meowing and leading me over to the room where I keep the cat food, I told her, "Look, you just had a full meal. I know that because I gave it to you. You'll get another meal and a snack later, but it isn't time for that yet."
For some reason, that didn't deter Collette from making her case more insistently. Eventually, I gave in and let her have a small snack.
So much for irrefutable logic.
Sometimes, when Watchcat Rosie and Watchcat Sammy had spats, they'd start licking each other, ostensibly lovingly at first, but then increasingly aggressively. Eventually, they'd start hitting each other. Finally, they'd put a paw on each other's heads to say, "Stop that."
It was always reassuring to see them settle their differences with that paw-on-the-head signal of a truce.
Watchcat Rosie was a great, take-charge security guard but didn't quite master the art of undercover guard duty. She'd get under a sofa cover, acting as though she was hidden, even though I could see her tail and two of her paws. Once, she was almost completely hidden, except for one paw sticking out from the cover. I told her, "I see you!" It amused me that she retracted her paw quickly. I humored her for the rest of the morning, pretending not to know where she was. I thought, "Why not let her have this illusion?"
It puzzles me that my current cat, Watchcat Collette, and previous cat, Watchcat Sylvia, have the common bond of enjoying lettuce. I've eaten a fair amount of salad, but salad dressing is mandatory for a salad to be palatable, I think. I can't imagine just eating lettuce leaves without anything on them, but Collette and Sylvia have wolfed down plain lettuce eagerly.
Then again, in a world where people inexplicably seek out the taste of raw celery or pizzas with pineapple, maybe this is less bizarre than I think.
Another scenario to envision: Imagine Watchcat Collette running through the living room, as she did last Thursday, with a grocery bag around her neck. I removed the bag as soon as I caught up to her. Conveniently, that was just after she'd delivered the supplies she was carrying. I have to admire any watchcat who helps people in the style of a St. Bernard.
Due to technical difficulties, I'm unable to post a Watchcat protocol photo today. Imagine, if you will, though, a photo of Watchcat Rosie looking commanding, Watchcat Sammy looking even-tempered, Watchcat Nemo maintaining a poker face, Watchcat Sylvia looking heartwarming, Watchcat Collette looking simultaneously menacing and playful, or Watchcat Lily looking in charge yet guarded.
That'll have to do for now. Then again, there are 2,632 previous Watchcat protocol posts to enjoy, as well as other cat photos I've posted. That should be sufficient to tide everyone over until the glitch is fixed.
Watchcat Nemo and his auxiliary eyes pondered whether to take the feathered toy bait in July 2012:
In case an authorized visitor to her assigned sector needed a grocery bag, Watchcat Sylvia was ready to provide one in May 2015:
Watchcat Collette was prepared to stare down anyone on July 6, 2023 who wasn't supposed to be in her assigned sector:
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Watchcat Sammy could have been reading the comics section of the newspaper. Instead, he focused on his assigned sector and waited to read the comics until after his shift:
It doesn't happen often, but sometimes, a watchcat has to subdue a chair:
Watchcat Collette sat ready on July 30, 2025 to vaporize unauthorized visitors with the Intruder Zapper, a powerful laser that, um, well...Actually, it's a flashlight, so Collette can illuminate scofflaws, at least:
Watchcat Nemo's expression on July 4, 2016 showed everyone that the banana belonged to him:
Anyone seeking an audience with Watchcat Lily's human in May 2020 had to go through her first:
