In what I refer to as my former life, when I lived in Emerald, and I was married to John, (who is now deceased), I owned a cat. A Burmese to be exact! I named her Champers, as she was just a blush colour of champagne!
I had never really 'owned' a cat before - I had co-habited with two cats when we lived in our first home, a rented farm house in Kenmare, a very small settlement of 1,000 to 5,000 acre properties. Ivory, named for obvious reasons, was brought home to me by John as she needed to be rescued as a kitten, she had been beaten up by property sheep dogs and had severely sunburnt ears. And then there was Charky--a cat of many dark colours who had a lot of bushy and furry family ties, and had just decided to live with us. I learned early on that you never reason with a cat--they are who they are, and they do what they do. Enough said. Don't question it! (To be honest, my Australian terrier, Elsa, was a puppy and just as confused--she loved cat food, and tried very hard to climb trees, and Ivory adored dog food - I guess they swapped roles for a while - Charky soon sorted them out!)
Ivory and Charky so deserve their own story, so I am just moving now into a further moment, in which Ivory and Charky were left behind us.
As time went on, we moved to Emerald, Queensland, and one magical day I was introduced to a Burmese kitten, and Hello! She had me at her first roll of her blue eyes and her soft purr. I was instantly in love with a cat - even I couldn't believe it! I brought her home as soon as she able to be mine. At the time I also still had my Australian terrier, Elsa--who deserves to have her own story - so just concentrate on the cat mainly in this one - but Elsa plays a part - probably the cause of why I almost wet myself from laughing so hard in public--but hang on---I'm not there yet in my story! Believe me--it will be worth it!
It was a Sunday, and John and I had taken the girls to church, and were just relaxing, when I came up with the absolutely great idea of taking Elsa and Champers for a walk with the family! Now it was mid afternoon in a sleepy town, and we were all still dressed in our Sunday 'best' and we had Elsa on one leash and Champs on another leash. It seemed really quite normal. We walked around the block and stopped and said hello to friends, and just as you see in the movies, it really was all very idyllic. Except, for Champs, who appeared to suffering bowel problems. She would only do the poo deed in her box. And her tummy had been rumbling for about 10 minutes when we thought we had better head home.
I had Elsa happily running along on her leash, and John had taken over Champ's leash from Bronwyn, who couldn't keep this uncomfortable cat in check. ( I have to interrupt this story to explain to you that John, deep down, hated cats. He loved dogs, and would never see any animal injured, but to be actively associated with a cat went beyond his comprehension, his understanding of life, and now his sense of smell!)
Anyway, we were about two blocks from home, and John, who by this stage was now carrying Champs to speed up the process to get home, for her bowel release, walked ahead of us. Remember - he really DOES NOT like cats. Elsa and the girls and I sped up our walking pace to help him, when suddenly there was this unusual cat yowl, and unfortunately, Champers pooed all over the front of John's good church shirt! As we were behind them, all we heard was Champs wailing, and John yelling and holding her out from him--we later arrived to the ugly scene. I started laughing then!
I know I shouldn't have - it was disgusting! It smelled really awful, and Champs was all beside herself, poor thing--she didn't mean to do it! But the look on John's face- priceless! He smelled so bad!! He just looked at me, and left Champs with me and the girls. I did mention that he doesn't like cats? Well- This clinched it.
No--what really clinched it was when, as she was pooing on him and he kept running for home, suddenly the neighbourhood dogs caught up on the scent I guess and there was a whole parade of dogs after him! It was so funny!
Anyway, John didn't know what to do--and we arrived shortly afterwards, followed by the neighbourhood dogs. Bron chased them away, and I did what any good wife would do. I grabbed the garden hose and hosed the cat poo off the front of my husband's shirt! In the backyard, amidst the laughter and the pants wetting and the swearing and the smell.
By this stage, Champers had settled into her zone and was calm again, and after some time, cleaned herself and got back to normal. Elsa just layed on the back lawn and smiled most of the afternoon. I think she even smiled in her sleep.