Stanley was my mom's last cat, an old Russian Blue, kind of a
velveteen Siamese guy, real boney and old and zombie-like, he had a bad limp
most of his life. I'd go over to my mom's house and you'd see Ol' Stanley Boy
come a-runnin', limping real fast, and covering lots of ground, saying
"mmeeaa" occasionally. He'd make a beeline for me, all the animals
used to gather around me, exchanging salutations and vying for attention. There
was Face, a big happy chow dog with thick lips and a blue tongue. He'd sit right
in front of me and go "Bofff!" "Bwooof!" "Boff!"
"Barooof!" in my face until I gave him major acknowledgement for at
least 5 minutes. Then there was Otto, the irritating little black and tan weiner
dog who would get real jealous of Face getting petted first, so he'd jump real
high and catch Face's scrotal flap, a tender potato chip shaped lobe of black
dog skin hanging down, having had his infected yarbles removed years ago, (sent
to A&M for medical science to ponder), poor ol' Face used to yelp in mortal
pain as Otto swung back and forth, like an evil ornament of sheer torment,
hangin' from Face's testicular "hangy down part", and you know how a
dashound hates to let go once its clamped in place. Otto would ruthlessly use
this manuveur to get petted sooner, and Face would really lose his temper and
take Otto right to the edge, but he never really hurt him very bad.
Meanwhile, as the dog melee erupted, up from the side, climbing up Mom's couch, and headed for me, wobbling and limping was this old, rickety puddy cat named STANLEY. He wasn't fully mentally there like most cats, he was smart in his own way, but he had kind of a blank stare. Everybody else used to say he was retarded, but I knew he wasn't dumb at all, he was just slow, and in his own way he was smart enough because he was pure love inside. He was a talking cat, not a whole lot, but he'd always say something as he walked up, he had a low bellowing male cat voice, he'd go, "mmmoooooowwwwwwwww", kind of like when a dog is so glad to see you it starts smiling uncontrollably. Stanley would come sit on my lap, bellowing as he approached, you could tell by something in his voice he was really GLAD to see you, he wasn't faking it to get food, he let you know about his feelings.
good ol' Stanley
He came to live with me and Buddy and Babycat after my mom passed away. Babycat didn't like any other cats except Buddy, she would walk right up to Stanley and make him walk around the long way, keep in mind, she was a super timid little scaredy cat, always comfortable to hide behind Buddy or underneath her Daddy's keyboards, rather than be in open sight getting petted. She only liked me to pet her, sometimes she might slap someone with her tail in passing, and ONE TIME, after 11 years of being fed and watered by Gypsy Doug when I wasn't around, she actually let him PET HER. Only once, though.
What
I'm saying is this shy little cat was a total bully to Stanley, because she
didn't like "outsiders".I explained to her, this is Stanley Boy, and
like him or not, he's going to live with us from now on, he's one of us, and
although he won't be taking anything away from Babycat's share of Buddy's bowl,
he'll be here eating with us and hangin' out.
Stanley didn't mind not being top cat at all, he was just damn glad to be around me and his most fascinating thing to do was STARE at Buddy, unblinking, just fixed on him without wavering. The reason he did this was Buddy was the master of food generating manipulation. He just had that knack for talkin' his way in short order into enough treats to feed several cats, why hunt for food when its coming to Buddy almost on command?
Stanley'd just hang to the side, like Babycat, but not WITH Babycat, she'd hiss him out in no uncertain terms, and if he didn't move away fast enough, she'd slap the shit out of him as she ran alongside, rabbit punching his head. He'd find his corner and stare at Buddy, and then come up to mop up the aftermath,
I always made sure every cat got all they could eat, without Buddy the Food Inhaler pushing them aside. What you do is feed Buddy first, facing one direction, and right when he digs in, you toss bites to the others behind his back, where he's not looking. The other cats always appeared like magic, right behind Buddy, Stanley caught on real quick. Stanley liked Gypsy Doug and Chuckwagon, he liked climbing on their bellies. Mugtoe found the secret Stanley pages somehow, it even has Stanley trying to sit on Bob Cox. Stanley was the only cat of mine who wasn't MURDERED by that Coxsucking asshole.
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this is jack
, he's a good square nosed
cat
he lives over at
chuckwagon's house
he likes buffalo wings
and barbacoa
