Litterary Cats

By Katherine Fauster

Written by the rescued Fauster felines and the family dog, these writings narrate the exciting events that constitute their daily lives. From cross-country travel by both land and air, to excursions on buses, light rail, trams, tow trucks, and one police car, they tell it all. Appointments with their doctors are always descriptive adventures.

Charming journal entries are written with humor and poignancy and will keep you laughing or reaching for a tissue. They underscore the unbreakable bond between humans and their beloved pets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9781645449027

Book preview

Chapter 1

November 2, 2004

Duffy Fauster

Dear Journal,

I have just had the longest car ride of my short life! It was not a very nice ride either, because it rained from the time we left Ohio till we crossed into Arizona. The windshield wipers slapped for three days and disturbed my sleep. Other than to take an occasional sightseeing break, I was in Mom’s lap the whole way, and I never moved. Nora was on the passenger seat beside me, and Daffy, Dinah, and Anna were in their big green tent right behind us. I was the only man in the car, strategically placed in Mom’s car in case the women needed help. So why did Dad have two men in his car, besides himself?

Our first stop on the frist morning was at the Ohio Highway Patrol office, three miles from home. We were off to a good start. Dad couldn’t get the walkie-talkies to work, so they helped him. The things were probably just on different frequencies. I should have been in Dad’s car!

We were on our way again. Within a few minutes, Dinah threw out her breakfast, so we made our second stop in the parking lot of the Vagabond Restaurant so Mom could do a big cleanup. Apparently, from what I understand, Dinah does this on the frist morning of every trip.

We were off again. Third time’s a charm. It took us a long time just to get to Fort Wayne. But then, things got a little better except for the pouring rain and Mom’s gas. She had really bad gas. Our next stop was at a Jeep dealership in Indianapolis. They inspected the old black jeep and took it for a test drive (my frist test ride ever), but they could not find any problems.

So off we set once more. We bumped and lurched our way through St. Louis, right during the late afternoon rush hour traffic. I knew we had a big problem because Mom does not bump and lurch while driving. I thought we were going to stall. My face was as white as a sheet under my hair, but I tried not to show my fear. After Dad had filled Mom’s big tank with fuel a couple of times, things improved.

We kept driving until we reached Rolla that night. We received a delicious dinner and then were able to explore the rooms and relax for a bit. Dad went out and returned with unappetizing-smelling meals (poor Mom and Dad). Soon after, we were all encouraged to get a good night’s sleep. Good night’s sleep? We’d been sleeping all day! It was time to party.

The next morning we were on our way pretty early. Slap, slap, slap, went the wipers. Slap, slap slap, all day long. Those of us with four (or three) legs just slept the day away because of our night of partying. Those of us with two legs were also tired, but they had to drive and took only short naps from time to time. Those noisy strips on the side of the highway would jolt them awake.

That night we stayed in Armadillo, Texas. We were ready to party again. Mom and Dad fell into bed with empty stomachs. Ours were full!

Late in the afternoon on the third day, we arrived in Arizona. Within a few hours we had crossed over the mountains. It was snowing. About this time, I had the head shakes (Mom was a little nervous), but I didn’t have a full-blown seizure. Good for me!

It was getting dark as we drove down into the valley. And there was Scottsdale. There was our house. My sibs had been here before, but it was all new to me. However, I found my way around quickly, and Mom took me to the feline powder room. Oh, what a relief it was. So I’m all settled in my new home.

November 7, 2004

Duffy Fauster

Hello, Journal,

See this darling picture of me? It was taken the day that my mom and dad adopted me. I was contented and excited, but I was exhausted as well. I wondered what rip-roaring adventures lay ahead of me.

Now, I find myself in Arizona. I think that it is going to be quite lovely here, but I do have a few concerns.

The other day, my dad entered the house from the back patio in a state of shock. His complexion was pale, which was unusual for Dad. He had spotted a six-foot bull snake, who was watching his every move. Dad entered the house via the guest bedroom door and gave the snake a wide berth. Then, that wily creature disappeared. But he had scared the waste material out of both Dad and me. That news had made my spine tingle and my stomach churn.

During conversations which ensued, I found out that other dangers were lurking just beyond the den doors. This, after all, is the Wild West. Hawks circle overhead, just waiting to swoop out of the sky and snatch unsuspecting small prey like me in their strong talons. They’d carry me off, never to be seen again.

After considering this, plus the possibility of a coyote leaping over the wall and devouring me in a nanosecond, I’ve decided that staying indoors might be a great idea. I can watch brids from inside the house. This is a fun and entertaining thing to do. My little head swivels rapidly on my nimble neck as I follow their flight patterns. I sometimes sit for ours on my end, keeping an ear on them through the screen. It’s a good thing that a screen separates me from those brids. Otherwise, I’d be presenting Mom with my trophies all the livelong day. Somehow, I don’t think my gifts wood be graciously accepted. She loves every living thing, with the possible exception of slithering snakes and mosquitoes.

Because the temperatures are moderate at this time of year, I am able to run errands with Mom, and if she needs to dash into a store for a few minutes, I am perfectly fine being left in the jeep. However, if it was summer, I could fry and die.

Attention: Never leave pets in the car if the temperature is over sixty-two degrees.

November 8, 2004

Duffy Fauster

Dear Diary,

I’m back! I have something so exciting to share that can’t wait another minute. Last night, I was thinking about how I see with my ears. My ears are amazing! So I wrote a song called Amazing Ears. The original words were written by a Mr. John Newton sometime when he was alive, between 1725 and 1807. My song goes like this:

Amazing ears! How sweet the sounds,

That saved a wretch like me!

I once was lost, but now am found,

Was blind, but now I see.

I’m not so sure who wrote the tune, but I’m going to look into it (with my amazing ears, of course!).

November 20, 2004

Nora Fauster

You’re right! I am not a litterary cat, but I am a cat dog. I am not one of those dogs who chases cats. I live with a whole houseful of felines. I love cats, especially my little brother Duffy. We became best friends the day he walked into my life. He literally walked into me.

When I asked Mom if I could write a little story in the journal, she thought it was a wonderful idea. I suggested that we change the name to Litterary Cats and One Literati. Mom is pondering that, even as I begin my story.

I don’t remember much about my early life. I think I have purposely forgotten. I do not think it was very happy, though, because I still have a pellet in my body where I was shot. By grace, I was saved. My good, second life began on Saturday, June 12, 1999.

I spent some time at the Toledo Humane Society, but people were not clamoring to adopt me. I saw many dogs leaving with their happy new families, and I felt sad that no one wanted me. Time was passing, and my days were numbered. However, the workers at THS liked me and thought that I would make someone a good pet. So, instead of euthanizing me, they took me to a place called Planned Pethood. I was spayed the next day, and then a couple of days later, I found myself sitting in a cage at Erie Street Market. People were milling all around, and I noticed that some of the dogs were being taken out for walks. Lucky dogs!

I saw a lady looking my way, not just a quick glance, but really looking at me. She turned and walked in the other direction, and my pounding heart dropped to my toes. A few minutes later she returned, but I did not let myself feel excited. I had been ignored and rejected before, and I didn’t want to go through the disappointment of rejection again. The lady was talking to the volunteer who was my caregiver for the day, and the next thing I knew, she was squatting in front of me, gently stroking my head and rubbing my ears.

I was in love!

Then, something really exciting happened. A leash was fastened to my collar, and I was being taken for a walk. I wanted to stick close to this nice lady so she’d know I’d always be right by her side.

But I stuck so close she tripped over me. Then I tripped over her feet as well as my own feet. We must have looked dreadfully comical as we made our way down the sidewalk. I was trying so hard to impress her, and here I was messing up everything. I was on the verge of tears, but then I saw her face. She didn’t look angry or even annoyed. She was laughing.

When we returned to my crate, she gave me a hug and then walked away. My eyes followed her to a table. I hardly dared to breathe.

After ten or fifteen minutes, she was back with a packet of papers in her hand. She got down in front of me, showed me a paper, and said, This paper says that you, Gabbie, are now my girl, but we are going to change your name. Are you ready to go home?

I never thought I’d hear those words: Are you ready to go home? I was more than ready. I was beyond plain happy. Ecstatic! Delighted! Joyful! That’s how I felt! Finally, someone was going to love me, and I had a special someone to love!

My new mom and I drove home together. I tried to stay cool and nonchalant, but every so often, I found myself in her lap, lavishing sloppy kisses on her face as she tried to drive us safely back to Defiance. My new, amazingly happy life was just beginning!

December 6, 2004

Duffy Fauster

Hi, Diary!

I am happy to be writing in you again. I just cannot believe that so many days have passed since I put pencil to paper, but I knew that nora wanted to record her story for historical reasons.

I have started my Christmas shopping. Mom took me a few days ago to a big golf store because I wanted to find an appropriate gift for Dad. I looked at kitty headcovers for his golf clubs and found an orange-and-white one that looked just like me, according to the salesman. However, Mom thought his buddies might tease him about having a pussy headcover. I was insulted. I searched and searched until I found the perfect gift.

I chose boxer shorts with white dimpled balls on them. I just know Dad will love them because he is nuts about golf and he wears underwear. I think he will be surprised on Christmas morning.

I hope Dad will take me shopping for a gift for Mom.

All I want for Christmas is no more seizures.

December 14, 2004

Duffy Fauster

Dear Journal,

Several times since I began writing my stories in you, I have mentioned the word seizure and just left it at that. However, I am going to explain just what is wrong with me and what I’m dealing with on a pretty regular basis.

First of all, I think my four-legged mother abandoned me because of all my imperfections. Mother cats will do that. She won’t be getting a Mother’s Day card from me anytime soon. My seizures were not discovered during my four-week stay at the rescue center, but the day I was adopted by Mom, I had one at home. The next day, I paid a visit to my wonderful doctors in Bryan, Dr. Darcy and Dr. Pettigrew. They began to run tests on me; they drew blood out of me with a big neeble, poked me, prodded and squeezed me, measured and weighed me, smelled my breath, and looked into my ears. Finally, they gave me a kiss on my nose and sent me home.

Several days later, the test results were back. There was no definitive diagnosis, but some illnesses were ruled out, like distemper.

The most logical malady would appear to be epilepsy, but epilepsy is not very common in cats, especially one as young as me. No wonder my mom didn’t want me. But Mama Kate loves me and has promised that she will always look after me.

So now I am taking some medicine called phenobarbital. I take it every day, with breakfast in the morning and dinner in the evening. Sometimes I can go a week or two without a seizure, but the problem is this: when I started taking my medicine, I was just a little teeny-weeny guy, so the dosage was small. But with Mom’s excellent meals, I kept growing. The dosage was then too small. More seizures. Docs increased dosage. I grew some more. More seizures. This has been the pattern since September, and I hope that when I am fully grown, these blasted things will end.

I am so embarrassed when I have a seizure, because I lose control of my body. Sometimes, Mom has to change the sheets or blankets in the middle of the night. But she never scolds me or gets angry.

Through this, I have learned what unconditional love means.

December 16, 2004

Duffy F.

Oh, Dear Diary!

I have just had the very best day!

Daddy came to me this morning and announced that we were going shopping for a very special gift to give Mom. I was so happy because Mom takes such good care of me. She cleans my litter box, feeds me very tasty food, never forgets to give me my medicine, cleans my eyes twice a day, takes me to my doctors’ appointments, and she loves me to pieces. I also get to sleep on her bed. I am one fortunate dude!

So, Dad and I set off together.

I had an idea for a really wonderful gift. I thought a new regal-looking bed, wine and gold in color with a soft velvet cushion, would be perfect. I could sleep in it on her bed so she’d never have to deal with my red hairs on her blankets again. Daddy pooh-poohed that idea.

So, being a resilient fellow, I came up with another suggestion. How ’bout a nice new red collar for me on which we could hang a lovely 14-karat gold letter D so that when Mom looked at me, she wouldn’t have any trouble remembering my name? After all, I do have a lot of siblings, and Mom could get confused. I thought I had come up with the perfect, thoughtful gift. Dad nixed that idea too.

However, I had helped him think of something so special he just knew Mom would love it. I hope he’s right, because I went along with his suggestion.

After driving round and round and up and up, Dad found a parking spot. It must have been a very big place because there was a lot of activity around me. I rode on Dad’s left shoulder as we entered a lovely store. I knew it was lovely because of the distinctive aura surrounding me. Dad then whispered into my left ear to be extraordinarily good, because there was a big man with a gun just inside the door. So much for the lovely aura. When a pleasant female voice referred to me as a young man and asked how she could help me, I mouthed the words There is a man with a gun. I want to leave. When Dad and the voice laughed at me, I wanted out even more. The voice then explained that the man with the gun worked for the store. He was a guard, and he was there to protect me in case any bad people tried to rob the store. I laughed and said I knew that and I was just pretending to be scared. Ha, ha! Yeah, right. I’ll have a talk with Dad later.

Dad then told the voice that my mom had a beautiful bracelet filled with charms collected over the past fifteen years as souvenirs of their travels. However, he thought she’d love one from Duffy and his siblings. I couldn’t have agreed more. She showed us a beautiful solid gold saguaro charm, but that wasn’t meaningful enough, even though it is native to only the Sonoran Desert in Arizona and Mexico. Then she showed us some cat charms, but they all looked like cartoon characters. But next she showed us the special charm, which we both loved and knew would be perfect for Mom. My heart leapt for joy!

Thankfully, Daddy pulled out a card and paid for it. The voice put it in a blue box and tied it with a white ribbon. I just know Mom will love it.

The charm we chose for Mom is at the beginning of this journal entry. If you can’t decipher it, don’t give up. Keep reading.

I have to go now—time for that talk with Dad.

December 20, 2004

Duffy

Dear Diary,

This morning, before I even had time to complete my daily grooming ritual, Mom put Nora and me in her old black jeep. We had errands to run. Our last stop was at AJ’s, which is not a grocery store, no, no; they are purveyors of fine foods. Nora and I decided it must be a thoroughbred store. We’d have to do our shopping at the mongrel store. We laughed and laughed and thought we were pretty clever to have come up with that analogy. We may just be a mutt and a short-haired domestic, but we were given good brains!

Today was a happy day for me. I set a record for seizure-free days since I have been living with my new family. Nobody counted before that.

Life is good!

December 25, 2004

Duffy

Merry Christmas, Journal!

The last few weeks have been hectic around here. Let’s see, there’s been shopping, cleaning, cooking, Christmas cards, wrapping gifts, traveling (Daddy went to Ohio), polishing silver and crystal, and entertaining. Very few cat naps have been enjoyed.

Some dear friends of our parents came for cocktails the other evening. Then, they all went to a favorite restaurant for dinner. When everyone was here, Nora and I provided the entertainment. We were a big hit. Dr. Hunt likes me, I can tell; he was a pediatrician before he retired and started doing nothing. He is therefore very interested in my meds and dosages, my blood test results, and the frequency of my nasty seizures. Then, a babysitter named Amy came. Mom is apprehensive about leaving me alone.

The next night Mom and Dad went to a cocktail party. What’s so special about the tail of a cock? I’d rather have a thigh or a drumstick. When they were gone, I had one of those dreaded convulsions. I was scared because Mom wasn’t with me to assure and comfort me. However, I didn’t tell her about it because I knew she’d feel dreadful. So this is our little secret. Mom’s the word.

Then last night, Ant Joan and Uncle John came for cocktails and dinner. They also exchanged gifts, and I could tell they were having a good time together. Since it was Christmas Eve, Mom and Dad went to a lovely and special service at their church.

Now, it’s Christmas Day, and we are having a quiet family day along with a big cozy fire. Because this is my very first Christmas, I don’t know much about what it means. Mom explained it to me like this:

God, our Heavenly Father, had a Son, whose name was Jesus. He was born on a cold winter’s night in a stable with animals around Him. There were shepherds in the fields looking after their sheep. Angels appeared and told them, Unto you is born this day, in the city of David [Bethlehem], a Savior who is Christ the Lord. The shepherds came and found the baby Jesus lying in a manger. A manger was a trough in which food for the animals was put. Poor Baby Jesus. He didn’t have a nice, warm bed or clean, snuggly, soft blankets or a doctor and nurses. But he did have his sweet mother, Mary.

I wasn’t certain what a stable was, so Mom tried to explain it to me. It was a shelter where the farm animals could sleep and be fed. There maybe wasn’t even a door on it, so the cold air and chilly winds were all around them. The floor was dirt and could have been muddy. The animals probably didn’t smell very pretty either, and it would have been dark and gloomy.

I thought about what Mom had just told me. If I had been around then, I could have gone into the stable, because it seems only animals were present at Jesus’s birth. The shepherds came later. I could have crawled into the manger with Baby Jesus and kept Him warm. I don’t smell bad. Daddy tells me all the time that I smell so pure, like an angel.

I still don’t know much about Jesus, but I do know that Christmas is the time we celebrate His birth. So happy birthday, Jesus!

Wanna party?

January 6, 2005

Duffy Fauster

Dear Diary,

I’m back, and do you notice that the year is now 2005? I told Mom that I was so happy to be living in my second year. But she said, no, Duffy. You are still living in your first year of life. You won’t be living in your second year until after your first birthday. But I responded, No, no, Mom. You don’t understand. I lived in 2004, and now it is 2005, so this is my second year. Why is it so confusing? Just what is it that humans don’t get?

So, I’ve thought about it a bit. Mom is borderline smart and she is a college graduate, and I am not even a year old yet. Wait a minute. If I’m not even a year old, how can I be living in my second year? I’ll let her win this one, because when I become a teenager, I’ll always be right, and she won’t know anything, so I’m told.

After I had been at the rescue center for a week or so, Mom started taking me home for daily visits, which I really enjoyed. I loved riding in the old black jeep, and I loved sitting in Mom’s lap for the trip because I had her all to myself. I love attention. I loved the big goofy dog named Nora. She and I became good friends quickly. And I loved the water at Mom’s house and drank lots of it out of Nora’s bowl in the kitchen. The water at the center smelled terrible and tasted worse. It was sulfur water. Because I didn’t know what sulfur was and my inquisitive brain wanted to be appeased, I asked Mom to find the definition in the dictionary.

Sulfur or sulphur: a nonmetallic element that occurs in nature combined or free in the form of yellow crystals and in masses, crusts and powder and is used in vulcanizing rubber, in medicine, and in making gunpowder and matches.

No wonder I have severe heartburn when I drink it!

All that talk about not even being a year old yet made me think about how much living I have undertaken since arriving at the rescue center, and my mind took my pencil for a walk down memory lane. Since I’m already on this path, I think I’ll continue. I like where it leads.

Not long after my daily visits to Mom’s home began, I was taken one morning to the low-cost spay/neuter clinic, where Dr. Cindy gave me a quick snip-snip, and just like that, I lost my manhood. I awoke in Mom’s arms, and she took me home with her forever. I think we both shed tears because we were so happy. I had found my forever mom, and she had found a sweet little forever son.

It was that evening I had my frist seizure that someone noticed. It was fairly mild, but Mom wasn’t willing to take any chances with me. That was when the visits to my knowledgeable doctors began. I feel as though I am in very capable hands. Even though I am living in my Arizona house for the winter, they are still in charge of my care. Once in a while, Mom takes me to a doctor for the dreaded blood draw, and he faxes the results back to Drs. Darcy and Pettigrew. I am a very blessed little fellow to have such loving and caring people around me.

Then something unexpected happened to my nails. I thought I was going to the spa for the day, because I’ve heard that men have manicures also. When I heard Mom tell Dad that she was taking me to have declaws done, I felt so fortunate, thinking claws was just another name for nails. This was going to be such fun. Several hours after being admitted to the spa, I awoke to discover big bandages on my front paws. What had they done to me? Mom and I had a silent drive home. I was put into a big cage kind of thing, with Yesterday’s News in my small litter box. All night long I banged my bandaged paws on the walls of my cage. I was peeved, so I made sure Mom didn’t get any sleep.

The next morning, as we returned to the spa, the silence was deadly. We were immediately taken into a small room suffused with medicinal and disinfectant smells. We were at the animal hospital, not the spa. My nose rarely deceives me. The next thing I knew, my toes were free. Dr. Darcy had ripped off the bandages. I was discharged.

A smattering of talk occurred on our twenty-mile trip from Bryan to Defiance. Mom talked about how gently and carefully Dr. Darcy had removed my bandages, because she didn’t want me to feel any discomfort. Okay, so maybe she hadn’t ripped off the bandages. Then, Mom said how fortunate I was to have been home last night. It was only because she had devoted many years of her life to caring for felines at the rescue center that the docs felt comfortable letting me come home. Dad, a retired dentist, was more than capable of giving me a shot for pain, and Mom can pill a cat faster than the blink of an eye.

I felt very sorry for the way I had behaved last night. I love Mom more than tuna and sardine sandwiches.

And truth be told, I felt great!

I’m glad it’s now 2005. All that awful kitten stuff is behind me. I’m a big boy now, and I’m ready to begin my big boy life!

January 13, 2005

Duffy F.

Dear Journal,

This morning, I was out of my bed and ready to roll at 4:15. After Dab had taken his shower, I performed my morning toilet alongside him. First, I washed the sleep from my eyes. I next cleaned my teeth. Mom combed my hair to ensure that I didn’t have any naughties (those miserable mattes or knots that just appear and can hurt like crazy). But I didn’t have any. I spend a lot of time every day grooming myself so that my hair will be shiny and I’ll smell clean. Dab was spritzing some good-smelling stuff on himself, and he offered to spray a little on me. I declined, however; I like my pure angel smell.

At five o’clock sharp, we were ready to go. Mom drove, I was in her lap, Daddy was in the right seat (Mom would agree with that!), and Nora was between us. Actually, her back feet were on the back seat, and her front feet were on the footrest between the front seats.

She loved this position because she could keep an eye on the traffic as well as slather sloppy kisses on our unsuspecting faces whenever the spirit moved her. I loved it. Mom loved it. Dab not so much.

Before too long, we were pulling into Sky Harbor Airport. It was a huge place. I was so excited because I had never traveled on a plane before. Finally, Mom pulled over to the right lane in front of terminal three. Dad got out and retrieved his luggage from the back of the jeep. Mom had exited the driver’s side with me on her shoulder. Dad gave us each a quick kiss on the cheek, we reentered the car, Nora was in the passenger seat, and we pulled away from the curb. Dab had disappeared. What just happened?

Mom sensed my despondency, and she immediately tried to console me. Oh, Duffy! I thought that you knew we were just dropping Dad off at the airport and that you, Nora, and I were not going on the trip with him. But I didn’t know that, or I had misunderstood when plans were being discussed. I felt so sad and disappointed, but I felt a little better after Mom had explained that Dad was going home on a business trip. He would be going to lots of meetings, and when he was home, he’d be prepping for the next meeting. It would be no fun for me at all. I gave Mom one of my endearing smiles. I didn’t want her to think I’d rather be flying high.

I herb a roar overhead. Bye, Dab!

January 19, 2005

Duffykins

Dear Diary,

I learned a lesson!

I was so disappointed last week when we took Dad to the airport and I wasn’t allowed to fly back to Ohio with him on a big jet plane.

But that was good. Very good. On Tuesday, early morning, I had a big, bad, dreaded seizure. Mom was with me, and she helped me through it. She is such a big comfort to me. Had I been with Dab, because of the time difference, we probably would have been on our way to the airport in Detroit. I’d have been in my carrier, and with Dab driving and all, he might not have noticed my distress. What if I had soiled myself and my carrier? He’d have been so flustered. Then I’d have been in big trouble when we arrived at the airport. The security guards might have been offended by my odor, and I might not have been allowed on the plane. I could still be in Detroit. I’m so glad I didn’t get to go.

Besides, I had fun right here at home with my mom and my siblings.

On the way home from the airport last week, we stopped at AJ’s so that Mom could pick up a couple of things. Nora and I were left briefly in the jeep. We decided we’d ask Mom to take us to the dollar store. Our allowances wouldn’t allow us to shop at AJ’s. Mom bought all of us some delicious snacks. They certainly are purveyors of fine foods.

On one evening, after we had all eaten and our dishes were done, Mom prepared her dinner of homemade, fresh cut french fries, smothered in rich brown gravy, with a dirty martini on the side. Then we all collected in front of the TV to watch old movies and listen to lip-smacking, mmmm-ing, and sighing. Mom was one contented lady. She never indulges like that! We were all sworn to secrecy regarding her rather unorthodox meal. Mom’s the word.

Another night, we all sat in front of a lovely, crackling fire, which quickly caused us all to fall asleep. Mom got up around 1:30 and went to bed with an aching back and a crick in her neck. We silently followed, one by one.

Good night, Diary.

Zzzzzzzz.

January 20, 2005

Duffy

Dear Journal,

When Dad was back in Ohio, Mom received an invitation to dinner from Mr. and Mrs. Ells. My parents call them David and Barbara, but I’m not allowed to, because they are much older than I. However, there were going to be four couples there, plus Mom, so I thought I should go as her escort. That way she would not be alone driving home late at night, and I could protect her from any unexpected harm. Also, I could be the designated driver. And she wouldn’t be the ninth wheel at the party.

I have been practicing my good table manners since I was adopted, and I think I’m ready to attend my first dinner party.

Table Etiquette for Cats

Do not put your elbows on the table.

Place yournapkin inyourlap. Do not tuck it into your collar or tie it around yourneck like a bib or bandanna.

Decline every offer of wine. Stick to water.

Do not begin to eat untilyour hostess has taken her first bite. In my case, wait until I hear chewing noises around me.

Do not blow on or slurp the soup.

Chew with your mouth closed.

Use the silverware provided. Do not use your paws to get the food from your plate to your mouth.

Do not lick your plate.

Whenyou