North Cackalacky Jackie

A little over two years ago, I was doing something out in the yard when I caught sight of a black cat slinking around the house. Being a cat lover, and knowing that Mrs. Rambler would be interested, I called her from the house and tracked down the feline visitor. Unlike most cats that had been spotted outside, this one came right up to me when I called him. The first thing I noticed was that he was wearing a collar, and it had his name: Jack. There was also a phone number, which I immediately called. The person who answered acknowledged that they had a cat named Jack, but declined to come get him unless he was making a nuisance of himself. At the time, I thought that was a little odd.

Before making the call, I had picked Jack up and he responded by purring and seemed to enjoy the attention. I put him down while making the call because it was difficult to use my cell phone and hold him at the same time. When I ended the call, I bent down to pick Jack up again and was rewarded with a little nip that was the first hint that this cat was definitely independent in nature.

Since letting cats roam outside and be exposed to all the hazards that being outside entails, Mrs. Rambler…and me by association…took an immediate interest in the well-being of Jack. That resulted in his being given a little snack on our back deck and several conversations with his owner. We soon learned that Jack liked to roam and actually lived in a neighborhood close to ours and pretty much refused to be confined to his house. In fact, his owner was thrilled that he soon adopted the routine of visiting our house whenever he wasn’t home.

The actual chain of events is very convoluted and drawn out, and in the interest of not driving away my six regular readers with a lot of boring details, suffice it to say that Jack soon spent as much time at our house as he did at home. That was in spite of the efforts of Mrs. Rambler who would load him in her car, drive him home and drop him off in the driveway of his owner. There were times when Jack almost beat her back to our house, taking a shortcut through the green-way that separates our developments. Providing feline bus service continued for at least a year before we humans finally caught on to the fact that Jack would decide where he wanted to be. It didn’t matter what we inferior humans thought was best.

I mentioned earlier that Jack has a very independent nature. Every interaction with him must be on his terms, and his terms only. In fact, if at any time during said interaction you do something he’s not in favor of, you are rewarded with a taste of his ire. That means you get a little nip that almost never breaks the skin, but is a definite warning that he means business. But there have been several instances of blood loss due to Jack’s “over stimulation,” as Mrs. Rambler likes to call it.

For most of the past year, Jack has resided at our house. I think he decided that his old home was too chaotic with five or six other cats and several dogs barking and yipping constantly. Since we only have one dog…Maggie the Wonder Dog to be precise…and several other cats, we don’t have quite the level of chaos that he had experienced before. But every day, he announces his desire to spend some alone time outside by clawing at the door to the deck. Jack always gets his way, so he gets his alone time and then reappears back at the door to the deck to be readmitted to the house.

Lately, Jack has been tormenting Mrs. Rambler on a regular basis. That torment manifests itself in a couple of ways. One of his favorites is to wait until she gets comfortable on the sofa in the family room to decide that it’s imperative that he be let outside immediately. Never mind that I’ve just left the kitchen area and he gave no indication that he wanted to go outside. The other method of torment is a little more devious.

Mrs. Rambler has created a little nest on the family room sofa where she likes to get comfortable. Her laptop is there, and the pillows are arranged just so for her comfort and enjoyment. (I would post a picture so you would understand just what I mean, but that would result in my sleeping in the garage for the next week.) Jack likes to start out sleeping on my chest, which is actually a ruse. That position just gives him a vantage point to wait for his moment to pounce, so to speak.

The moment Mrs. Rambler leaves her nest for any reason, Jack arises from what appeared to be a sound sleep, and bounds over to the sofa jumping into the exact spot his Mom has just vacated. There is a timing and purposeful appearance to the way this occurs that you just know that he’s refined this move so that it is perfect. He can execute the sofa stealing move from almost any location in the kitchen or family room, and he’s successful about 98% of the time in its execution. And with Jack’s independent nature, you don’t just walk up to him and lift him out of his chosen spot without a willingness to lose some blood and/or skin in the process. The best way for Mrs. Rambler to get her spot back is to have some bacon or ham bites available for bribery purposes.

The picture above is Jack in his second favorite nap location, an antique chair in the living room. I think he likes it because Mom would just as soon he didn’t lie there.