Great Big Cat

Roger is a great big cat.

This’ is one of those family phrases that develops over the years. When I was growing up, there were certain sayings that we developed. Through the years, my parents, sister and myself weaved them into family lore.

Here are a few examples:

• Make sure you’re right before you go ahead
• Spinning your wheels
• Smoke-o-matic
• Casseff

I’m sure when my folks and sister read those words, they’ll smile and think of some pleasant times. They can probably add many others to the list.

It’s a similar situation for us, now, as parents and with my two twentysomethings. And the term ‘great big cat’ is just one piece of our household vocab. The verbiage came from a summer theater workshop Paul attended. The instructor had all the thespians in her group doing various acting exercises.

In one scenario, she told the group to “arch your back like a great big cat.” 

We appropriated the imagery of “great big cat” around here because it really fits the oft-mentioned orange tabby. He has a large personality and he is large in physical stature.

As warm weather has faded and the evening chill of crisp autumn nights has returned to East Tennessee, we have noticed that Roger has morphed into a lap cat, as he often does this time of year. This practice will go through late winter and he’ll, then, return to exploring his outdoor surroundings and only engaging us when he feels he needs some fresh food or an open door.

But make no mistake about it: this time of year, when he fills an entire lap and then some, he epitomizes the image of a great big cat.

 

The practice goes something like this.

Lisa and I settle in for the evening after dinner and completing chores. She sits in her big chair and I take a seat on the sofa. Roger shows up and tries to nose his way in between Lisa and the laptop. Oftentimes, she’ll acquiesce; sometimes not. If the evening agenda includes a stack of papers to grade or student emails to answer, she’ll tell him politely: “Sorry. Not tonight.”

That’s when he usually turns to Plan B.

I’ll give up my spot on the couch and move over to the recliner – situated next to Lisa’s big chair  - and invite the great big cat. I grab a blanket or throw – to protect thin human skin from kneading – and I’ll make eye contact. That’s his cue. It doesn’t take long before he settles in.

I used to worry about the long laundry list of things I could be doing. But, you know what, usually they will wait. I’m more than happy to offer my lap to a great big cat.

It’s nice. It’s restful. And, after all, Lisa says a purring cat is said to lower human blood pressure levels.

So, you see, there are benefits for us, too. 

JG

Originally posted 10/20/2014