From the Vault, Because It’s Cat Day, Again

On National Cat Day 2023, here’s a look back at a blog from International Cat Day in 2022

Editor’s Note: This article has been edited and republished

It’s National Cat Day in the United States, and a friend told me to celebrate appropriately. He knows that Sunny and Panther rule my exclusive flat in Pittsburgh’s south hills. After all, they are both on the lease and they have their own room. I just write the checks.

I wrote the following blog on International Cat Day, which is held Aug. 8 each year. So, I’ll celebrate today by giving this old blog a cleanup. The location of their litter box has changed and a new couch has replaced the old one. But the love they give is just the same.

An now, the original blog.

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It’s International Cat Day, and my boys knew it all day.

It began like any other morning around here, with me asleep and my cats about to start the antics that these furballs get away with every day. The big one was at my feet and the little one was screaming while perched on the floor next to me. It was light outside, but not by much. A few minutes went by. The little one kept screaming.

Sunny! Sunny! Shut up!

That didn’t work, but I was starting to figure out his cry. One of them must have filled the litter box and he wanted me to clean it right now. I did as I’m obliged and got out of bed at an awful hour to descend the stairs to my kitchen. That’s where I keep their litter box. Sure enough, it was full. The bottom of the food bowl was visible, too. So, I topped that off, and finally freshened their water before climbing the steps again. Certainly, I could get one more hour of sleep on this Monday morning.

No. Fifteen bloody minutes. Sunny started leaping from one end of the bed to the other. In a mad scurry to get at his brother the protagonist, who was lurking under the foot of the bed, he ran over my face rather briskly.

OK, that will be all! I will get up! I’ll get up!

So, I did. I flung off my CPAP mask and swung my legs back out of the bed. A few groans came from somewhere as Panther circled my feet like a shark. I meandered to the steps and slunk down them once again. Panther stopped me, as he does frequently, to cut me off and stretch, vertically against the wall, in front of me. I have to watch him, pet him, and tell him he’s a good boy in order to pass.

We reached the bottom, eventually. I turned. And there, in the middle of the floor, were two giant cat turds.

On the kitchen floor.

Isn’t this just another day?

Isn’t every day “Cat Day” in this house? It might explain an extra hint of arrogance I felt today, especially from the orange one.

That little guy is feisty. Sunny thinks he thinks he’s 10 times his size and has a bite that almost matches his meow. He’s also a complete cuddle bug when he feels like it. Sunny likes to be held; he lives to be held! He’s also quite dependent on his human dad.

Sunny came with his name when he was just 14 weeks old. He’d been found outside an abandoned house in West Washington. That’s where other cats, presumably his parents, led his rescuers to dead kittens the same age as Sunny inside the house. It seems Sunny was the only one of the litter to survive.

I fell in love when his rescuer looked for a permanent home. That was almost a year ago. I was without a pet at the time. Soon, I recalled what I had learned the last time I had adopted a single cat. They don’t do that well on their own. They need a friend. I also thought Sunny could benefit from a mentor. Sort of like a Big Brother for cats.

So, I got Panther. He came from the Washington County Humane Society in February 2022. My intention was to find a younger female cat, preferably around a year or at the oldest, 2. Instead, I came home with the largest male 3-year-old cat they had.

Panther also came with his name. Like his little brother, it fits. He’s not just heavy; he’s tall. He’s long. And he’s muscular. Panther also is the biggest daddy’s boy you’d ever want to meet.

And these two have become my life. I love them. But my boys know what gets under my skin, and I’m convinced these furballs get away with whatever they can just to irritate me.

The couch my boys get away with destroying

Take the old couch in my living room. It’s an old couch and I got it for free. I don’t mind that Sunny and Panther exercise on it with their paws and claws. After all, who cares if it has a few scratch marks?

But, it’s no longer a few scratch marks. This morning, what was a small wear mark that was starting to thread became a giant gouge in the back cushion. Sunny pawed at it until it came apart. Then, he pulled stuffing out in bales. Panther helped by chewing on some foam.

I can’t print the words I used when I saw it. All I could do was get the duct tape. It’s a solution that cannot last long. The couch may soon find itself on a curb. But what could I do? Eventually, the babies calmed down, curled up, and snuggled nearby as I worked the rest of the day. After all, it’s International Cat Day, and I love my boys.

Remind me that when they eat my new couch.