17 6 / 2011

I would describe Pooka Mae as the most delightful grump.  Her ornery nature, her opposition to everything which surrounds her, the distaste for Lady Clementine that she expresses with such clarity and precision and her monologue of hisses, growls and grunts punctuated by the occasional swat and nip of her teeth, all really grasp Pooka’s disposition. 

Pooka is annoyed by most everything: the too frequent late breakfast or dinner and disruption to her daily routine of sleeping, eating and litter box guarding, the grooming she is subjected to daily, the torture of listening to me sing to her, and the very presence of Clementine in the same room as her.  Pooka Mae looks back longingly to a time when she and I lived alone together in South Austin in the larger apartment with sliding glass doors that she could gaze out of constantly, to a time without Clementine and a period in her life in which disruptions to her sleep schedule were at an all-time low.  Her angst first began to really be apparent when we moved to the smaller apartment, an apartment in which the only windows were shoulder height and therefore unreachable to Pooka Mae.  (Pooka Mae, due to her arthritis and weight no longer jumps, pounces or leaps and absolutely refuses to be picked up and carried).  Her frustrations relented with time, only to return when I implemented the daily grooming regiment to keep her matts at a minimum and her frustrations turned to an all-consuming rage upon the arrival of Clementine. 

Now, Pooka Mae’s joys in life are limited to eating, litter box cleaning and brief moments of peace when Clementine runs and in the closet to hide from the sound of garbage trucks and recycling.   I should also mention Pooka’s weekly triumph over the vacuum cleaner, which she bravely confronts every weekend when I vacuum and try to control the cat hair that covers everything in the apartment.  Pooka Mae will not back down and instead throws herself to the carpet and refuses to budge as the vacuum cleaner rumbles around her, sucking up cat hair and crumbs.  Despite the limited nature of her life’s joys,  I still believe Pooka is a relatively happy cat and feels some degree of satisfaction in fulfilling her role as the cantankerous old lady, the ornery old maid and most delightful of grumpy kitties.