A long time favorite cat story, found again while unpacking another box of books:
MAD ANTHONY
The tall weeds of September remind me of Mad Anthony, who people said was a little crazy. They were wrong. Mad Anthony was my cat, and I knew he was a lot crazy.
Mad Anthony liked high grass and watering cans. And he liked playing dog.
On a day like this, I would whistle up Mad Anthony, and he would climb out of his watering can where he sat and thought about being a dog. He would trot up to me and wag his tail. Then we'd go for a walk, just a boy and his furry dog along a country road.
We would stop to look at butterflies and bugs and birds. Mad Anthony would heel. Sometimes he would point. But once in a while he'd get excited, forget he was playing dog, and revert to his natural role of insane cat. He would spring.
Mad Anthony was the only cat I knew who sprang straight up. He never leaped toward a butterfly, bug, or bird. He rose vertically, at least two feet, often three. Whether there was wildlife nearby or not. There was no warning, and the effect was startling. When Mad Anthony sprang, it was as if he'd been standing on a land mine, or over one of those off--on Yellowstone geysers. All of a sudden--boingg!!
People were amazed. They asked me why my cat leaped up that way for no reason. I told them he was a very special cat. Privately I thought it was because he was nuts. But I didn't say that, because I didn't want to hurt his feelings.
We were good friends. We played a game in the tall grass. Mad Anthony scurried into the fields and hid. But not too well. He twitched his tail, so I could see weeds moving. Then I ran into the field, straight at him. Boingg! ---Mad Anthony rocketed up, legs outstretched, mouth wide open, a wild gleam in his slanty eyes.
I caught him in my arms. He always pretended to be surprised. He yelled "Yeow!" a couple of times. Then he struggled to get down, so he could run off and do it over again.
The game could take up most of the day. My mother would ask me where I'd been, and I'd say catching the cat.
Mad Anthony lived in the watering can. We left it out all winter for him. He spent an awful lot of time in there. I wondered what he found to do. My parents said he was probably redecorating.
Early in the morning I would tiptoe out of the house and try to sneak up on Mad Anthony. But he always heard me. His head would pop up under the watering can handle, and he'd squint into the sunshine. His triangular face reminded me of Sub-Mariner, a comic book hero then.
My family didn't use Mad Anthony's watering can. We bought another one to water the garden with. But one time, somebody got mixed up and put water in Mad Anthony's house while he was out boingg--ing around somewhere. He came dashing across the lawn and leaped into the can. There was a terrible splash. And a long pause.
Then the Sub-Mariner's dripping head appeared in the opening. His eyes were more squinty than usual. But he didn't say anything; he just looked casually around, pretending he wasn't up to his neck in water. He stayed in there a long while, just to make his point. Like I said, he was crazy.
I wish he were still around. Now, a lot of years later, I still think of Mad Anthony when I see tall grass. Or a watering can. But I never see a cat face peeking out. If I did, I guess I'd spring straight in the air.
by Dereck Williamson, from The Literary Cat by Walter Chandolha, pub. 1977
5 comments:
If a cat jumps straight up for no apparent reason could that be the result of a parasite? That's all I got.
That is a great story, MamaM, thanks for posting it. Great name for a cat, too. Every cat I have ever had has been a bit mad, maybe angry, maybe crazed, maybe interesting, but never boring. Even as I type this my old cat is butting his head into my hands in an effort to get my attention. Must be feeding time here at the zoo.
While typing the story out, I realized it was somewhat fanciful, written to convey essence rather than fact. I'm guessing the two didn't really play catch all day, but the times they did formed that memory.
The "stray" Siamese cat who move in when I was in junior high loved to play hide and seek in a game called "Where'sss the cat??" She'd wandered into our yard and took up residence with us after her family moved away (we later learned) and left her to fend for herself with no front claws. She was a wonderful cat. Our home had a hallway that shared a wall with the living area that was open at both ends and she loved to tear off to circle around from living room to hall and back the whenever she was feeling playful and I'd say "Where'ssss the cat?" My role was to follow behind as quietly as possible until we'd see each other and make eye contact and then she'd tear off again. When I'd surprise her by going the opposite direction, I'd catch her as she came around the corner and would scoop her up. She'd purr like mad and then she'd want to be put down again so she could run some more.
We also had a cat with the ability to show up out of nowhere, and seemingly levitate in addition to being good at the Boingg! He took down a bat once by leaping on the bed and n jumping straight up in the air to give it a well timed whack. He'd watched it pass over the first time, made his calculations on its second loop and on the third pass, BAMM! down came the bat, which was sufficiently stunned enough to be scooped up and out of the house by the humans. He could also spring five feet up from the ground onto a window box ledge in front of our kitchen window in order to stare imperiously inside whenever he was done with whatever business he was conducting outdoors. It was quite a jump and he apparently managed it with ease.
Mad Anthony was most likely an outdoor cat, however, indoor cats will also catch a Zephyr on a whim and run around like they're being chased or going somewhere in a hurry. The writer, John MacDonald, author of the Travis McGee series, named that activity "The Flying Red Horse" after the flying red Mobil Gas red horse, Pegasus.
What the story captures (caught also by SixtyG) is the distinctive uniqueness, weirdness, interest, and sometimes madness that's been peculiar to each cat that's graced my life and home.
Turns out the author of the book, Walter Chandoha is the cat photographer who took the famous cat photo known as The Mob in 1963
It's one of over 200,000 stock images Chandoha has taken in a career stretching back to his days as a student at New York University. Since then he's amassed 34 books, over 300 magazine covers, thousands of adverts and become the preeminent cat photographer in America.
Chandoha was taking cute cat photos decades before cute cat photos became the internet's bread and butter.
There was a time when "cats were used to illustrate just about everything," says the photographer. "I did ads for many of the Fortune 500 companies, [to] little startup companies."
His home turf was pet food. "There was a very brief period -- maybe a year -- when I'd say 90% of the facings on the dog food and the cat food packages were of my photographs,"
My young cat, which I rescued from dire circumstances, was an outdoor cat who had to fend for herself and her kittens. She has been in my house for two and a half years now, I think she likes heat, food, shelter from the storm, et cetera, but she does indeed still have an edge to her - vertical leaps, chasing zephyrs, playing random games such as "Claw the carpet and run!" but mainly she eats and sleeps, which is in fact, her main task. She does it well.
Fun story. A good cat is priceless.
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