A Cat Named Cleo

I live with a cat named Cleopatra. Cleo for short.

She generously lets me live with her, even though I don’t earn my keep yet.

Appearance

Cleo is a stripped tabby – black and tan. She has the classic “M” on her forehead; a white lower jaw; long, graceful side whiskers; a delightful red-brown nose; an irresistible tan belly; beautiful paws; and a smooth, silky coat. Everything about her is gorgeous.

She got her name from her gold eye-liner that Elizabeth Taylor would kill for.

The tip of her tail often almost touches the back of her head – like the bale handle on a cooking kettle.

Behavior

Cleo is the first cat we’ve had who hasn’t had a feline companion. And she has not been left alone for hours and hours, day after day, because we were working outside the home. So she’s grown up closer to us than any other cat.

She’s the only cat we’ve had who talks to us. She meows and rumbles and chirps. And if you talk back to her, sometimes she’ll sit there and chat with you – back and forth.

But she’s not a needy cat. She doesn’t lie in someone’s lap constantly. She’s quite independent actually.

She spends much of her day on the comforter, nestled in the valley between the two mattresses. That’s her most frequent daytime spot.

But if the sun is bright, you’re likely to find her in the brightest spot, her fur hotter than a pizza oven, and purring like a tiger.

But when she wants attention, she has no problem letting you know just exactly what she wants.

She loves to have her belly rubbed or scratched. And she loves to have her ears scratched.

Often, in the kitchen, she will meow – over and over. If you decide that she wants something to eat – it being the kitchen – and give her some food, she usually ignores it.

She wants to be picked up. Hold her in your arms, and she’s quiet and contented – looking almost pleased about how clever she is.

She’ll roll over on her back and wriggle around, offering her golden belly to be rubbed or scratched.

When she’s on her back, sometimes I’ll pick her up – one hand under her shoulders and one under her rump – and I’ll lift her up and cradle her in my arms. Sometimes she’ll press her perfect paw lightly against my cheek. She’s five feet in the air – upside-down – and she’s purring her head off.

Of course, she’s never been given the slightest reason to feel threatened – or to feel that she’s in any danger at all.

She grooms herself extremely well. She may be the cleanest cat we’ve ever had.

And she has this startling pose when she’s cleaning her belly and lower bits. She lies on her lower back, with her legs splayed out left and right, her upper body curved up like a paper clip, and she placidly cleans her belly or thighs or tail. Sometimes she’ll reach out and grab a foot – or tail – and pull it in closer, so she can clean it better.

I don’t think she’s done this recently, but she used to often pick up a mouth full of food pellets. She’d carry them into the living room – where we were sitting – and she’d drop them on the carpet, and then she’d eat them one by one.

Even more unusual – but she did do this – several times – she would pick up a food pellet between the pads of her paw and then eat it right out of her “hand”.

Extraordinary Cat

Cleo feels like an extraordinary cat.

I’m sure that much of her beauty, intelligence, and gentle disposition are a product of her heritage.

At the same time, she has spent most of her waking hours with us. She’s smart, and she has learned what we respond to.

. . .

Or perhaps … Noooooo. Could it be? Is it possible?

Maybe I’m ignoring facts that are plain as the nose on my face.

Perhaps SHE has taught US what SHE responds to.

Could it be that she’s trained us, rather than we’ve trained her?

Maybe she’s smarter than I am.

I’m not sure that would surprise me.

I’ll have to give that one a little thought.