Joyce found the little orphan wandering around in a Lebanon street late one Saturday night while I was in the newspaper's print plant, watching the press guys perform their alchemical magic to produce a newspaper.
Joyce came walking into the plant with the little furball cupped in her hands and the "Can we keep it?" look on her face.
"You hate cats," I said.
"Look. It rubbed its face on my finger. It's so cute!" she said, and we became cat parents.
We already had three min pins and a Walmart parking lot special (the AKC is considering making that an official breed). I reckoned one more critter wouldn't make that much difference.
When we carted the mewling little beast home, the dogs just sighed and rolled their eyes when we weren't looking. They weren't impressed, but they didn't eat her.
Like I say, she's been raised by dogs. Last week she was sleeping on the dresser, and it must have been a good dream, because she was wagging her tail. That looks a little weird on a cat. We can't afford counseling for her, though.
When the dogs go outside to chase Bigfoots, Stripe goes too. She handles the ones that climb trees to escape the dogs, or so I assume.
I recommend getting a cat who acts like a dog. She's endlessly amusing and a pretty good conversationalist, but only on certain subjects.
"Hey Stripe, when do you want your milk?" "Now."
"What did Mommy say when she stubbed her toe?" "Ow."
"Who is your favorite Chinese communist?" "Mao."
None of the dogs can carry on a conversation like that. Once in a while the big dog, Ben, will complain a little about how rough he has it. It's hard to disagree with him, because his big shaggy tail is Stripe's favorite toy.
He dares not wag it when she's within 50 feet.
Stripe has fit in well in the household. She and our youngest, Sally, have a system. Stripe kills things — mice, moles, wolves and whatnot — and Sally brings them in the house and chews them up on my side of the bed.
(Sally's one of the min pins - not a human child.)
They all just think it's hysterical when I forget to look under the covers before I lie down.
***
OK, I laughed out loud at the convenience store sign offering free coffee that says, "Welcome Fishmen."
Yes, I know "Fishermen" probably didn't fit on the sign, but "Fishmen" is just funny.
I'm picturing carpheaded fellows wandering around the store's parking lot with steaming styrofoam cups.
***
The best quote of the week is from my dad. He and Joyce were discussing a relative whom we've never met.
"She's on Facebook," Joyce told him.
"Well, the way she was raised, I'm not surprised that's where she ended up," Dad said.
Ken York's column appears in The Daily Record, Lebanon, Mo. It is reprinted here with permission.
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