460. December 21st… “Mana Sale”….out on Highway 61…2 days only….

“My Own Blue Velvet” 2010

“There are many dying children out there whose last wish is to meet me.” – David Hasselhoff

every morning…my cat Elvis and I go through a ritual that I haven’t really known to be a ritual until this morning….

Elvis is a brut of an animal…a gene portion away from his wild predessesors….unpredictable…completely untamable…socially inept and basically a one person cat…and I adore that about him…

Elvis who was originally named Poki…was a born a rogue…an ugly duckling….his eyes were so infected with conjunctivitis the vet warned me  that he may not ever see…my girlfriend laughed at  the straight nub that was a tail…but for some strange reason…I saw all of it differently…each morning I bathed his eyes with warm water and a cloth…put medicine in them until one day they cleared up…he was not blind and could see perfectly…I was elated…as was…he…and so for the first few weeks of life…my face was the first thing he saw every morning as I pried his eyes open…Elvis was determined…he forced his presence on my other cat Traffic…who would sit at the top of the stairs…watch young Elvis…climb laboriously for 30 minutes to the top then with a series of well placed  head strkies…he’d send Elvis back down the steps…to start the process all over again…until the day Elvis developed his…Mana…his cojones…and the household changed…he became the Alpha Cat…and life has pretty much been that way for almost a decade…

Elvis sleeps at the foot of my bed…he wants affection when he wants it…and anything out of his desire is likely to produce a bite or scratch…why put up with that you ask…”It’s just Elvis“….so our ritual is simple…when I sit down in my chair first thing in the morning….he rubs up against both of my legs…his back is arched high…and he is purring loudly…I rub his back until he licks my hand…which basically says…”that was great but stop“…I then pick him up put him over my shoulder for a few rubs…set him on my chest and rub his back again until he again licks my hand….and we are done…

I love Elvis….he is his own cat…doesn’t pretend…if he likes you terrific…if he’s uncertain…about you…he’ll keep his distance…if he doesn’t like you…you’ll know….clearly….

Elvis’ personality

that being said…I like the idea of it all being straightforward…all of the frill…and bs to make it sound like it is something it is not…bothers…me…it’s like the ingredients in hot dogs…”Unknown”…sure everyone’s opinion is different…as are their truths…but deep down we know…or should know our truth…and when we compromise that truth…because we’re lazy…can’t find anything better…give up trying or for any reason that we ignore  our truth…in hopes some alternative to our truth will fill us….we have lost our…Mana…and we have become no one….and will remain no one until….we either change that or accept it….

Mana = “the stuff of which magic is formed,” as well as the substance of which souls are made.”…

no Mana= no magic….no soul….

“Once conform, once do what other people do because they do it, and a lethargy steals over all the finer nerves and faculties of the soul. She becomes all outer show and inward emptiness; dull, callous, and indifferent.” – Virginia Woolf


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3 thoughts on “460. December 21st… “Mana Sale”….out on Highway 61…2 days only….

  1. I have a cat like that Robert. Her name is Itzy and she was born in the wild, I assume the runt of the litter. I was enjoying a rum & coke poolside when she walked out of the shrubbery and up to my foot. She was half starved and quite bad looking. She looked up at me and meowed pathetically. I fed her a bit of turkey and it’s been 10 years now. She raised 5 kittens in our mud room and has given us yard protection from any other cat or dog foolish enough to think they can step in her territory.
    She sleeps between my legs and to this day only lets me lay a hand on her. Every morning she sits next to my lap-top and awaits her bowl of cut up ham or turkey. Then it’s outside to patrol the yard. When I weed (I do a lot of that) she follows me like a dog. Always comes when I whistle.
    The night she gave birth I went out into the mud room. I had set up a cardboard box for her privacy. She heard me come out the door and came over and sat in my lap. She had never ever done that before. She started to purr, looked up in my eyes and nuzzled into my lap as if to say… this is it. The next morning when I went out she came running out of the box with a flat stomach and meowed at me as if to say… “You ain’t gunna believe this!”
    We all had a wonderful time raising kittens and I think I took more care to find them good homes than I would of if they were my own kids. What am I saying… They were my own kids.
    Cats are so different than dogs. Dogs are great, but, they are like mentally retarded (a phrase no longer in fashion) relatives. Yep, they love you unconditionally. The problem is you know they are going to pee on the sofa one day. Cats are more like equals… somehow.

    All the best Robert.
    Mrs. N

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  2. Sounds like a wonderful cat….I do think cats find us…unlike dogs…and I agree dogs are great but I refer cats…I like that my cats are only slightly excited to see me after a long trip away…that sort of sort of not mentality…always keeps me guessing….

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