Watchcats on break LI

June 30 has special meaning for my family, as Watchcats Rosie and Sammy entered our lives on June 30, 2001, and I adopted Watchcat Sylvia on June 30, 2008.  All three cats took differing approaches to guard duty.  Watchcat Rosie had a generally take charge attitude, making her presence known and seemingly expecting others to bend to her will.  Watchcat Sammy was usually more easy-going and inclined to think through every angle of a situation before responding to it.  Watchcat Sylvia had a kind, trusting nature, typically giving people the benefit of the doubt.

All three cats made wonderful impressions on us, as my photos and stories on this blog illustrate.  How lucky our family was to have the companionship and guard duty expertise of such great cats.  How lucky we still are to have such comforting memories of them--and all the other watchcats who have been and are part of our lives.

Watchcats on break L

I don't know what response I expect, but if I haven't seen Watchcat Collette for several hours, I'll say, "Good morning (or afternoon or evening), Collette.  How have you been?"

I know I won't be able to translate her response exactly, but the urgency or lack of urgency in her meowing will at least clue me in that she's hungry, feisty, or lethargic.

Besides, even though we don't speak the same language, it's just respectful of us to say, "I see you there," in our own ways.

Watchcats on break XLIX

I'm not sure what reaction I expect from Watchcat Collette when I say from behind a closed door, "Good morning, Collette.  It's 6:11," or "Good morning, Collette.  It's 6:55.  You won't have much longer to wait," conveying to her that I hear her, but it's not quite time to be fed.

It just feels right to acknowledge her meowing, even though we don't speak the same language.

Watchcats on break XLVIII

Watchcat Sylvia used to hide in a hard-to-reach spot under a desk.  Initially, I could lure her out by throwing a toy mouse to her.  As time went on, however, she wouldn't emerge until I threw two toy mice to her.  Then, it became four mice, and...the price kept going up.  Eventually, when I threw just one or two toy mice her way, she'd peer out and then dart back under the desk to convey, "Nope.  Not enough mice." 

I was relieved when Sylvia finally stopped hiding under the desk.  If our routine had progressed any further, I might have had to throw 28 toy mice her way, in four alternating rows of seven gray mice and seven white mice.  Even if I had done that, Sylvia might still have peered out and retreated quickly, meowing as if to say, "Sorry, but those rows aren't quite symmetrical enough."

I guess we all have our standards. 

Watchcats on break XLVII

Usually, when Jackson Browne's song, "Stay/The Load-Out," comes to mind, I replace one lyric of it mentally.  Instead of "And the union don't mind," I think of it as, "And the cat will not mind," or "And Collette will not mind."

It amuses me that even in a dream, I want to make sure I have my watchcat's permission before imploring anyone to stay longer.

Watchcats on break XLVI

An '80s memory: I remember being startled the first time I saw Watchcat Rusty walking around on top of the wardrobe in the room where I practiced the bass.  I thought, "Even for a cat, that's an awfully high perch."  I was even more surprised the first time I saw Rusty start prancing around on the wardrobe in a routine unique to him.  I thought, "I never expected to see that, but that's a well-done impression of a horse."

Just when I thought I'd seen everything, a watchcat reminded he that he had layers.

Watchcats on break XLV

On my other blog today, I recommended William Bolcom's piano piece, "Tabby Cat Walk."  I wrote that I could imagine Watchcat Collette washing her fur in time to it.  I doubt, however, that she would walk in time to it.  The rhythm doesn't lend itself to her natural walking pace, and even if it did, I think she'd still refrain from walking to it, just to be contrarian.

As you might expect, watchcats are often impervious to the power of suggestion.

Watchcat protocol MMDCXXXIV

On June 22, 2026, Watchcat Collette stood on her pulpit and decreed, "Hear ye!  Hear ye!  All marauders must disperse now:"

Impressively, her strategy worked.  Who knew that a watchcat's proclamation could be so successful? 

Watchcat protocol MMDCXXXIII

When you have to spend hours on end at your guard post, why shouldn't it be a comfy blanket?

 That was Watchcat Lily's reasoning on June 21, 2026.

Watchcats on break XLIV

In his later years, Watchcat Sammy would let out a loud, "Meowwwwwwwww!" before ascending the small staircase to the sofa.  I'd ask, "What's it all about, Sammy?"  He'd sometimes respond with a loud meow, although not as often when I was recording video of him.

"Well, here we are," I'd tell Sammy.  "We're two old men grousing about the state of the world."

In retrospect, I'd like to think we were mostly commenting on things instead of complaining about them.

Watchcats on break XLIII

Now that I think of it, rests during pieces I played on the bass weren't the only times I heard Watchcat Rusty sing.  There was at least one other occasion.  When I played Herb Ellis and Duke Robillard's version of "Avalon" on the stereo, Rusty started tapping his tail and let out a sung "Meowwwwwwwww!" in conjunction with the guitars.

How can you not respect a watchcat who has the good taste to appreciate a well-played swing guitar cover?

Watchcats on break XLII

I've learned to be careful about putting books and CDs on the floor where Watchcat Collette can scratch them.  One day, she shredded the cover of a paperback.

The book's title, Never A Dull Moment, hit close to home, admittedly.

Watchcats on break XLI

This was a recurring scenario: Watchcat Sammy would eat from his bowl while Watchcat Rosie looked at me as if to say, "Can you believe this?  He's eating while I'm without any food!"  I'd remind her gently that she actually had food in her own bowl or had just finished eating her own food.

It's inevitable that if you know enough cats throughout your life, some of them will likely have a martyr complex. 

Watchcats on break XL

I've heard about quite a few instances of people slipping and falling recently.  This morning, I asked Watchcat Collette, "You haven't fallen recently, have you?"

Collette assured me she hadn't fallen.  She also reminded me that even if she did fall, she would land on her feet.

What a comforting self-correcting mechanism to have.

Watchcats on break XXXIX

Just now, Watchcat Collette rolled around on the floor several times before calling me over with a barely audible meow.

I like that subtle way of telling me, "Psst...I'm happy.  Pass it on."

Watchcats on break XXXVIII

It moves me to know that if I've been asleep longer than usual, Watchcat Collette will check on me by meowing loudly and pawing at the door.  If too much time passes after that, I wouldn't put it past her to start sawing the bedroom door down, possibly while wearing welding goggles.

Watchcats on break XXXVII

Regardless of how recently she kneaded her paws on me, Watchcat Collette insists on kneading me again when jumping back onto the sofa after a break.  It's flattering knowing that she wants to soften me up just right so she can settle in for a while.

There's nothing like being rekneaded.

Watchcats on break XXXVI

As it started raining this morning, I told Watchcat Collette, "I'm sorry there have been so many storms lately.  I know you don't like storms."  Collette then attempted to bite and scratch my hand.

I admonished her, "Well, don't bite or scratch me!  I didn't cause it to rain.  I'm sympathetic to your plight."

It puzzles me that Watchcat Collette misinterpreted my sympathy as an excuse to use me as a scapegoat. 

Watchcats on break XXXV

I was pleased to see Watchcat Sylvia washing her fur in time to Jeff Golub's instrumental, "Droptop," once.  It was heartwarming to see that my watchcat appreciated an easy-on-the-ears, smooth jazz guitar groove as much as I do.

Watchcats on break XXXIV

A veterinary worker once said it wouldn't have surprised her to hear Watchcat Rosie say, "I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille."

As scores of Rosie photos on this blog prove, that's an accurate summary of Rosie's penchant for being camera-ready.

Watchcats on break XXXIII

Occasionally, Watchcat Rosie would walk up to me and put a paw on my foot.  I'm still not sure if she did this to prevent me from wandering into a potentially unsafe area of her assigned sector or if she just wanted to immobilize me on principle.

Watchcats on break XXXII

For the longest time, getting Watchcat Sammy to meow when I recorded video of him was a challenge.  As soon as I stopped recording after several minutes of silence, Sammy would start meowing up a storm.  Occasionally, I was lucky enough to capture footage of him speaking.  Often, however, I felt like I had to put asterisks on videos I'd filmed, such as, "After I stopped recording, Sammy let out a triumphant, elongated 'Meowwwwww!' before sprinting across the room," "Just before I recorded this, Sammy squealed excitedly while zeroing in on birds in a tree," or "Right after I stopped filming, Sammy set up a lectern and recited the Gettysburg Address."

To be honest, I might just have imagined that last scenario.

Watchcats on break XXXI

Thunderstorms often rattle Watchcat Collette.  Two thunderstorms ago, I could tell she was unnerved, so I crawled under her hiding place and offered her two toy mice to play with.  It did my heart good to see her start kicking both mice vigorously.

That routine will likely be necessary again today.  In fact, given all the rain we've already had this morning, I wish I could offer Collette some toy mice retroactively.

Watchcats on break XXX

Before sitting down at the kitchen table, it's advisable for me to feed Watchcat Collette first.  If I dare to eat before feeding her, she'll look at me as if to say, "Your priorities are incorrect.  Now, to show you how disappointed I am, I'm going to scratch the back door instead of using my scratching post."

I always get up before she's too far along in sharpening her claws and feed her.  You'd think I'd have internalized this inevitable sequence of events by now. 

Watchcats on break XXIX

Considering how often Watchcat Collette has sat in the living room window for more than six years, it's puzzling that my brother has never seen her there when driving by.  One recent afternoon, Collette jumped out of the window--just as I saw a white car that could have been my brother's turn onto my street.  I thought, "It wouldn't surprise me if Collette timed her exit that way.  Apparently, she's determined to retain some degree of mystery--or defiance."

Watchcats on break XXVIII

Last night, as I pulled into my parking space, I saw a ghostly apparition pacing back and forth in the living room window.  Was it an end-of-the-world omen or a spirit instructed to walk me through my past?

No.  It was Watchcat Collette, keeping tabs on the street.  It was reassuring to know that the most threatening behavior I could expect from her was biting my feet--and she didn't feel up to doing that last night.

Watchcats on break XXVII

I'm not sure why, when returning from grocery shopping, I've often said to Watchcat Sylvia or Watchcat Collette, "Alright, I've got new food and cat litter for you, so you should be good to go for a little while."

I'm still waiting for the day when Watchcat Collette responds, "Thank you for alleviating my concern.  I was wondering when you'd get around to restocking those items." 

Watchcats on break XXVI

I felt sheepish recently, having to apologize to Watchcat Collette.  I'd started eating a salad when Collette walked around the table, asking, "Meow?  Meow?"

I explained to her, "Oh, I'm sorry, Collette.  I already put dressing on the salad.  I know I usually give you a few lettuce leaves before I do that, but I forgot this time.  Sorry about that.  I'll remember next time."

Fortunately, I did remember the next time, and Collette ate her lettuce then.  I'm glad I remembered.  Watchcats don't like it when you make the same grievous error twice in a row.

Watchcats on break XXV

I've always liked it when I've gone to sleep on the couch, and Watchcat Sylvia or Watchcat Collette and I have drifted off to sleep around the same time while a warm, "pleasant dreams"-type tune is playing.  "Rhapsody And Blues" by The Crusaders and Chuck Mangione's "Chase The Clouds Away" fit the scene most appropriately, I think.

Watchcats on break XXIV

I know this scenario is logistically impossible, but I still like that it's a recurring dream.  I sometimes imagine myself back in college on my way to class.  Somewhere along the way, I encounter Watchcat Rosie saying to her brother, Watchcat Sammy, "Mew! Mew! Mew!"  Translated into English, she's telling him, "Hurry up, or we'll be late for class!"  After letting out a loud, "Meowwwwwwww," Sammy picks up a sudden burst of speed, and Rosie and he run off to class together.

I always wake up, however, before learning what class they're taking.  I still wonder about that.  I also wonder if they're the only cats in the class, and if not, how they cope with other members of their own species in the same auditorium.