My little Tabby cat (Mitzi) is sitting on top of my monitor because it is close to me. She is 7 pounds, has green eyes , is about seven years old, gray, white and black with an underfur of light brown. Cute, smart and aggressive don’t fully describe her.
I find her markings interesting. My military training made sure that camouflage was put on with the light colors where shadows normally were found and dark colors placed where the sun created highlights. That is her markings. White jaw, white under the eyes, and black stripes away from the eyes and mouth. Her ability to aim her ears fascinates me.
But most of all, I love her paws. Fur covered, concealing her claws. Little switchblades concealed in fur-covered paws.
Sometimes (at my discretion) we play coup. The name comes from the Indian form of warfare in which a warrior strikes an enemy without killing him. Counting coup. I will sneak up and tap Mitzi from behind, and she will turn to counter-attack the disgrace to her personality. I then tap her from the opposite side. She turns and swings a claw at me. This continues until I get tired or she connects and I am bleeding.
In college I was on the fencing team, and the coach would occasionally get disgusted that we were not parrying (blocking your opponent’s attack) before we attacked. So he would announce “OK. Everyone take off your shirts. Get an epee. Fence to first blood.” We instantly got serious about parrying – until the next time. I still have several scars on my right arm where I did not parry properly. Mitzi hasn’t given me a scar yet.
For a cat, she is quite gentle.
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