I love my little cat…well I actually love all three of my cats, but today I am writing specifically about my middle cat, Beda. I was folding the laundry a few minutes ago, an endeavor that takes place on the bed. I was standing on one side, battling with an unruly nightgown when I looked across the bed and saw these two little black ears protruding from the other side of the bed. If I stood on my tip toes I could just see the top of her face, and I was struck with how much I adore that cat. I realize that I am risking the label of crazy cat lady and I’m pretty much fine with that. Today I pay tribute to the meekest of Dylan and I’s brood of cats: the sleek, black mini-panther that spends most of her days lurking in darkened corners of our compartment; the cat with a coat so smooth that Dylan refers to her as being softer than Jesus’ washcloth; the wee Beda.
The funny thing about Beda is that I was against getting her from the start. Dylan had been after me to adopt another cat for a few months. At the time, we lived with a roommate, her cat, and our own cat, the magnificent Thomas. Dylan’s reasoning was that when Idy and her cat eventually moved out (something that was not even a discussion at that point) Thomas would be lonely. Still, I resisted, Thomas had a buddy for now, we’d cross that bridge when we came to it. And Dylan persisted: it was better to get the companion when both cat’s were reasonably young he insisted (lots of words that end in “sisted” in this post, eh?). So I relented and agreed that we would get another cat when we found the right one, but I had stipulations: no female cats and no black cats. I hadn’t had good experiences with these types of cats (and no, I am not superstitious about black cats) and told Dylan we would be steering clear of cats with either of those qualities.
A few weeks later on a Friday night I was closing up at the bank. I was in the midst of counting out my teller drawer when Dylan appeared at my station and announced that he had found our new cat. He was acting a little shifty, so I questioned him about his discovery. Where was said cat? What kind of cat was it? Was it a nice cat? Had he held it? Continuing to act in a shady manner, Dylan told me I would just have to come see her. Well, there was strike one…had he just said “her” in reference to our new cat? Indeed he had, but again he insisted that there was no reason to not get a female cat. She was very mellow and so cute; he was certain I would love her straight away. “What kind of cat is she?” I asked, not committing to anything. I was secretly hoping for a little calico cat, but Dylan resumed his shifty behavior and told me that she was a reddish brown color. Strike two. I have never seen a plain reddish brown colored cat before, but Dylan maintained his story and even coerced me into the car and to the pet store to have a look at this reddish brown cat, that I highly suspected was black.
By the time we got to the pet store, I had hardened my resolve again. I did NOT want another cat, especially a female cat with mythical reddish brown coloring. Dylan herded me into the pet store, tugging on my arm the entire way and fretting that she might already have been snatched up. He positioned me in front of the cat cage and pointed out the cat that would become Beda, and she was the smallest, saddest looking little cat I had ever seen. I don’t know how else to describe her than to compare her to the Christmas tree that Charlie Brown picks out in the Holiday Special. Her enormous eyes were green, her ears were much too big for her body giving her a bat-like quality, and her fur was most certainly black. But this little cat looked like she needed to be loved, and I was sold. I reached in and picked her up and she immediately attached to my shoulder. As I walked around the store a few times, just so that Dylan didn’t get too big for his britches and think that he had been right all along, she never let her kung-fu grip go. We paid $20.00 for the newest member of our family and headed home to Fort Collins.
Beda, whose proper name is actually Freda, has been our cat for nearly five and a half years. She is a timid but beautiful little creature, full of quirks and the most charming mew of any cat I’ve met. Her eyes are still enormous and she eventually grew into her ears, although she has a permanently worried look about her all the same. While Thomas and Reno are very much present in the everyday happenings of the house (and are usually the cause of any mayhem that occurs) Beda serves as an invisible member of the household, only appearing at night to take up residence on the bed as we sleep. She is my favorite of all the cats, and so I must finally give Dylan the credit he deserves for discovering her. There, I said it.