The Book of Cats

The Book of Cats

Let’s count all the “fingers” and toes.

Oh dear—is this one… Is there something wrong?

One…two…three…four…five. And five on that side.

What about…one…two…three…four. And four there. Poor wee scrap! Such a disability. But you can see, now that I’ve dried him off, he’ll have a gorgeous golden coat. Just like his daddy!

What about the other two?… Oh, such a relief! They’re fine. Both have my coloring. This young gentleman is everything I could wish for, and this lovely little lady! Perfection in a fur onesie. She takes after me, obviously. Extra fine. She’ll be a huntress. Just look at those paws!

Not to be boastful, but I do admit to a certain pride in my family heritage. We are so privileged to have numerous special traits: imposing size, gentle nature, and fabulous fur coats—which also happen to be nearly waterproof. (Aren’t you jealous? Who could ask for more? But there is more!) We carry the perfect accessories—big, fluffy tails.

Our best feature, in my opinion, is built-in snowshoes. Add to that our probability of polydactyly, and you must admit that we’re highly favored creatures… No, I assure you, extra digits don’t make us freaks. They make us extraordinary. I have six, myself. Extras, that is. The two on each front paw are almost like thumbs. So useful!

That’s why I’m so concerned about this dear little tyke. I wonder if our house people will be disappointed. I know they’re proud of us! They’ve done all they can to help. A comfy, cozy box lined with clean towels… Well, they were clean before… Oh, oh, oh—excuse me. There’s a bit of placenta I missed… Look the other way, please, while I clean that up. There we go, all tidy now. You see, this is my first litter. I have a lot to learn. But I’m determined to take the best possible care of these three tiny treasures.

Do you know anything about our origin? It’s a tantalizing tale. I’m of two minds about wanting the facts laid bare, or leaving the mystery wrapped up like a ball of yarn. With strands all twisted together. If we unravel it, what will we find? It’s so much more exciting to think of the various possibilities! Although some of the stories are simply ridiculous. I’ve heard our people debating the options.

An indisputable fact is that we represent the state of Maine. That’s right; our family holds the honorable position of State Cat. Because we are natives! And here’s where all the crazy theories come in. How did we begin?

One suggestion is that we descend from Marie Antoinette’s Turkish Angoras. She had them loaded onto a ship and brought to New England, intending to reunite with them. They made it, but she never did. I’m not sure who she was or what happened to her, but our people seem to know that she had a tragic end. Poor lady! 

Another idea is that—oh! This is so preposterous, I hesitate to even mention it. You see, our nice bushy tails have rings on them, similar to raccoon tails. And—and… the idea was once introduced that we are part raccoon. Have you ever heard such a silly idea? It’s scientifically impossible!

Here’s one I do like: there was a British Captain, Charles Coon, who kept long-haired cats aboard his ships. When they docked in New England, the cats went ashore and mixed with local cats. Long-haired kittens started appearing, and the people called them Coon’s cats. Coon’s Cats of Maine. Now that’s a reasonable line of thought.

But my personal favorite is the Viking theory. What an exciting scene to contemplate! Wild, red-bearded Norse invaders riding the choppy waves of the North Sea, carrying Norwegian Forest cats on their longships to keep down the vermin. Perhaps they even had cat figureheads… or am I being too fanciful?

When they invaded England, their forest felines found the local short haired cats—and the rest is history. Maybe. 

Recently I heard our people talking about DNA. They’ve had their family tested, and they're considering doing ours! Scientific studies imply that Maine Coons have the blood of the forest cats, mixed with a now extinct breed of short haired cat. Isn’t that fascinating?

Oh, here’s Olav! Hello, darling, have you come to see the children? Aren’t they precious? Yes, this one looks just like you. Except… his poor little paws… I’m afraid he’s a “normie”, dear. 

I know, I know; it’s just that—I want our children to have every advantage. And there are things he won’t ever be able to do as well as his brother and sister. Like catch prey, climb trees… Yes, he seems perfectly healthy otherwise. I realize I shouldn’t worry so.

>^^<

Our people have given names to the kittens. Artemis and Apollo—because they’re sure to be hunters—and Slim Jim for my golden boy. Because of his paws, I think. I don’t mind that they’ve done that; the names are suitable. 

Olav and I were named for the Norwegian king and queen. He’s the one who declared the Forest Cat to be Norway’s official cat. So appropriate! And you know, don’t you, that mother cats are also queens? I’m honored to be Queen Märtha.

>^^<

Their eyes are starting to open! I can see glimpses of cloudy, bluish color. Slim Jim’s started first. I helped a bit; licked and licked and licked him until he squirmed away. 

Now all three have their eyes open. They're tumbling and tottering in the box. Getting sturdier by the day. And they’re all starting to get their ear tufts! One of the signatures of our good breeding—not to mention that it’s adorable!

Olav is such a wonderful daddy! He comes and lies with the children while I go grab a bite to eat. He’s so proud of them; he loves it when they climb all over him. He is truly a king.

>^^<

Artemis, get down from there!

Isn’t she amazing? Look at her go! She’ll be right over the edge of the box in no time.

Don’t make me take you down!

Norse legends refer to the skogkatt as a mountain-dwelling fairy cat with an ability to climb sheer rock faces that other cats could not manage. I can see it in Artemis.

Just imagine her climbing ship’s rigging! Those magnificent mitts curling around the rope… plumy tail fluttering in the breeze… Ah! I can almost smell the salt air! I’ve never smelt salt air, but it sounds enticing. 

>^^<

All the kittens are walking well. Even Slim Jim. I suppose his feet are just as functional as those of ordinary cats... And he has the lushest toe tufts of the three. 

The fluff is coming in! Our people have noticed ruffs and pantaloons developing. They call it “the Elizabethan costume”, and it seems to please them. Apparently this Elizabeth was another person they all know about, and in fact she was also a queen. Perhaps I should learn more about her.      

And speaking of historical figures, I’ve forgotten to mention another one. According to our house people, there was a man called Ernest Hemingway who wrote a lot of books. More importantly—in my book—he was a cat lover with a fascination for polydactyls. It’s a great shame that he doesn’t seem to have written about cats. He had a house on an island, and he made sure to keep so many cats that they were always underfoot. Whatever sort of writer he was, that’s certainly an admirable trait!

>^^<

Children! Settle down now. Apollo! Artemis! There are more visitors coming, and you need to be on your best behavior. Be calm, like your brother. Chirp and purr. Rub against them. Wrap your tails around their legs. Charm them!

Something has changed lately. I heard our house people saying “It’s time,” and now other people are coming into our house. They peer at us and examine the kittens. Olav always stands guard to make sure we’re safe, but they don’t appear to be dangerous. 

>^^<

Today a man and a woman came to visit. They looked most carefully at all the children, and asked about our pedigrees. I know we have good ones—I’ve heard our house people talk about them. I’ve even seen them, but they don’t look like anything special. They’re just pieces of paper. The only use for paper is when it's wadded up in a ball and tossed on the floor! Then we can chase it around and take it back to be thrown again.

Oh, the children could have a delightful time with their pedigrees! What a scene that would be. All three of them batting the crinkly balls across the floor…

>^^<

Slim Jim is missing. Olav and I have called and searched for him. We’ve looked everywhere; under the beds and the couch, in the laundry basket, in every nook and cranny of the house. Our people don’t seem to be concerned, which is very odd. I hate to think they know something about his disappearance. They’re treating us extra special, though—petting us more than usual, and offering us those delicious fishy morsels. But we’re so worried about our boy that we can hardly enjoy them.

>^^<

He came back! That couple returned, and they brought Slim Jim along. Just for a visit, though. And we learned something that warms our hearts.

There was a little girl with the couple, and she had a chair with wheels. The most unusual chair I’ve ever seen. I think it must mean that the little girl is very special. Perhaps she’s also a queen, or a princess. And she held Slim Jim in her lap, smiling and petting him. I heard them say that they’ll come and see us from time to time. Olav and I are so relieved!

>^^<

Artemis caught her first mouse today! She’s been missing Apollo since he went to his new home. Moping and bored, until our people took us out to the garden shed. (They’ve been noticing chewed-open seed packets.) Our girl lived up to her name! She was on that mouse the moment it dared to stick its pointy nose out of a hole. Olav and I are so proud of her!

When Apollo left, it wasn't like Slim Jim’s disappearance. We realized what was happening, and actually it’s quite exciting! He went to live with a delightful lady who is a writer. She lives on a boat, and she’s  promised to take us all on a sailing trip across the bay. We can hardly wait!

>^^<

We’ve just come back from sailing…

Now I know the smell of the salt air, sea breeze whooshing through my fur, the thrill of swaying from the rigging, held securely by my wondrous feet! And, I am convinced, I feel the  blood of the Viking cats running through my veins!