Jackie Wells-Fauth
King Charles III of England had better watch out because I think his throne might be in peril. He is about to be usurped by Socks, king of all the cats.
Socks is the elder statesman of my daughter’s two cats. He has been around for quite a few years and has established himself with the whole family as a very stable and dependable animal. He came to the family from a shelter and has survived the addition of a dog, a baby and another cat with aplomb. So his reputation as a good cat is well-established and I never doubted it.
And then, I got the opportunity to spend a little over a week in his company. That is when I discovered that Socks has truly begun to believe his own legend and has established himself as ruler of the household.
From the moment I stepped into his house, Socks has let me know that he is in charge. When I set a cup of coffee beside the chair I intended to sit in, Socks casually walked over and sat down himself, giving me the look you reserve only for things so far beneath you, they aren’t worthy of your attention.
From then on, he went about the work of establishing his rule. King Socks can let himself in and out of the house, without waiting for permission. He sits wherever he wishes, including on your lap uninvited, sitting on whatever book or paper you might have been using. Socks can also claim the back of the chair, so that he can majestically stare down on the peasants who are merely sitting on the seat.
One of His Majesty’s favorite places is in the bay window containing all the house plants. He will move between the plants like it is the royal forest and then lie down in front of them as if to guard against intruders. I came in with the watering can to take care of the thirsty foliage and waited for the cat to move. He simply looked at me.
“Okay, Your Majesty, but if you stay there, you might get wet,” I warned. He turned away from me, to look out of the window, letting me know just how important my threats were.
So I admit it, I might have been careless with the watering can, just to get back at him. I managed to “accidentally” spill some water on his back end. “Oh, sorry,” I said as sincerely as I am able, when apologizing to a cat. With a sidewise glance out of his arrogant eyes, the king flicked his tail and sprayed the water right back at me. Score one for the feline royalty.
Socks is a hardy sized cat and so he is especially fussy about his meal times. When his regular owners are there and caring for him, he is fed regularly and deigns to be content with the cat food he gets. When the babysitters are there, he is less regularly sitting down to dine, not because I’m trying to starve him, but because I am not used to it, so sometimes he must fend for himself. Since he is also an agile king, he can get himself onto a kitchen counter, to check out the dining possibilities.
I had some pieces of chicken lying on the counter, and I came into the room as he was carefully making his selection from the buffet that he, of course, assumed was there for his enjoyment.
“Socks!” I snapped, “you get away from there.” He looked up, the chicken dangling from his teeth and his eyes determined slits. “Get down, I say!” At that, he casually leapt to the floor, dropping the chicken as he went.
I assumed it was over, so I delayed picking up the chicken piece. With that, King Socks turned back, retrieved his noon repast and disappeared downstairs, where I presume he enjoyed his picnic in private.
Despite it all, he is a pretty good and mellow cat, but I have to say he is also the most self-assured and complacent animal I have ever met. And I am pretty sure he will have a lot of tales to tell about his adventures with the sub-par humans he had to deal with while his owners were away for a week.
All hail Socks, King of the Cats!
dropsinthewell 