B.J. helps me with my reading in 2008 After Ginger and Blackie died within a short time of each other, I longed for another cat. I went to the local shelter to meet the cats, but left catless. The next day, I decided to adopt the most beautiful cat. B.J. had soft, long grey fur on top with a diamond of white on his face, extending down to a magnificent white ruff and sturdy white paws. I’d never seen a cat like him. We believed he was a Ragamuffin. B.J. settled in quickly when I brought him home. I didn’t mind when he would lay on the kitchen table, sprawled over the papers. He looked so handsome. I took photos and even sketched him there. But I soon discovered a disconcerting habit. He would seem happy enough, then suddenly swat or nip. He would turn without warning, and I didn’t know why. I recalled that two other adopters had returned him to the shelter. I had no intention of being the third -- and last -- return. I read up on why cats turn aggressive, and believed it was from overstimulation. B.J. enjoyed petting or brushing, to a point. When he started to flip his tail from side to side, it wasn’t playful wagging as for a dog. It was a sign of irritation, a prelude to aggression. I learned to pay close attention to his body language when touching him. If he stared at me through narrowed eyes, I kept my distance. I wondered if B.J. would benefit from some time outdoors. At first, I ignored his requests to go outside. It was funny when he pawed at the sliding glass door; it looked as if he was running a treadmill. B.J. treading on the door was my first YouTube video. Eventually I decided to take him into the garden for supervised visits. His tail lifted high as a flagpole as his eyes gleamed with excitement. His long white whiskers twitched as he sniffed all the wondrous scents of visiting wildlife, flower blossoms and the fresh sea breeze. We would begin in the back yard, but he loved to slip to the front, where I had less control. He would walk furtively, then suddenly race to the neighbour’s yard, darting through the narrow gap under the cedar hedge. When I followed him around the hedge, he ignored my calls, completely absorbed in exploring the shrubbery of the forbidden garden. When he’d had a good sniff around, I would gather him up and take him back inside. I gave B.J. some alone time in the yard one day, shortly after I first signed up for Facebook. I was so caught up on the computer that I was horrified to realize that he was still outside when it was already dark! I went out and called for him, but heard nothing. After I turned to look at the moon and stars, calming in their ancient stillness, I was relieved to see B.J.’s white paws paddling in my direction. I wrote a poem about the experience: Fascinating Facebook (A Cat Tale) At eight p.m. he wanted out my fluffy cat named B.J. Still bright and warm, I cracked the door and urged him not to stray The door clanged shut as B.J. bounded through the grass elated I’d check on him soon to see that he was safe and somewhat gated First I turned to Facebook a whole new world online I laughed and frowned and commented and lost all track of time I sent invites to new friends toured with them on holiday gorgeous photos, stunning news amazement near and far away When finally done, the hour was late but where was poor B.J.? Not in the yard, or near the house In the dark, I prayed he was okay I paced the street, called to silence looked up and saw the moon’s ray the stars of the big dipper shone as they had all my life, the same way I dropped my head and heard a sound tiny feet bouncing my way It was my darling kitty cat my own dear boy, B.J. The next day online again my story to reveal but hoping to escape the bait first savoured what felt real The forest air, a sun-warmed face the smiles we share, the meals we taste musical birds, a warm embrace nature’s many gifts of grace - Irene Plett Topics: cats, B.J., Ragamuffin cats, Facebook, poetry Above: B.J. was handsome and he knew it. Below: My first YouTube video was of B.J.
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