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The story that I want to tell you cannot be found in a book. They say the history of the West was written from the saddle of a horse but that’s horse- …well, you know. I was born here in this place that would come to be called the Old West and then eventually the West and then eventually a bedroom community of Denver with comfy, centrally heated homes, one’s choice of beds, warm laundry, and not really the Cimarron despite what that image over there depicts and says because the Oklahoma panhandle doesn’t really have those awesome mountains. Where was I? Oh yeah, but to my kind, the land was ageless. It had no beginning and no end, no boundary between the earth and sky. I can’t believe I just said that. I don’t even know what that means. Must go easy on the catnip. Anyway, like the wind in the buffalo grass, kitty cats belonged here, especially if there was a soft pillow in front of a crackling fireplace and the smelly, slobbering dog was put outside, even in the winter. We would always belong here.
They say the domesticated house cat is the true symbol of the West. No, really, they say that. Whether the West was won or lost in the end you’ll have to decide for yourself (but here’s a hint: while you’re out busting your hump making a living, scraping pennies together to make ends meet, ask yourself who in the household sleeps 20 or more hours a day and gets a bit ornery when her food dish is empty, or the litter box hasn’t been changed in a while?) But I digress. The story I want to tell you is true. I was there, and I remember. I remember the sun and the sky and the wind calling my name in a time when wild kitty cats of all breeds and varieties ran free – except, of course, for those fat, lazy Persians. I don’t think they’re even capable of running.
And so, I grew from adorable tabby kitten to bold, majestic fully-grown tabby cat as wild and reckless as thunder over the land racing away from the eagle (those damn things will eat you) and soaring with the wind. Flying? There were times I believed I could. Of course, there were times that I was convinced I could leap from the bed to the top of the dresser. Like my father before me (whoever he was) I became leader of the household and with that honor, came absolutely no responsibility. None whatsoever.Published in