Posted by Rebecca

Joey is the neighborhood thug.  But he’s a loveable thug.

Joey is a cat that belongs to my neighbors, James and Tanille.  He ‘belongs’ to them, but I’m pretty sure the whole trailer park really belongs to Joey.

We have a lot of random cats running around the neighborhood.  Some have owners and some don’t.  But Joey tells them all what to do and how to do it.  Fights are caused and fights are broken up, and Joey is always the ring-master.  If it seems that Joey has lost a fight, or is afraid of another animal in the park, it’s because Joey wants you to believe that.

Cassi was afraid of Joey.  Have I mentioned that Cassi was a Rhodesian Ridgeback?  They were bred to hunt lions.

One evening a couple of years ago, Cassi and I were hanging out in James and Tanille’s living room.  Joey glared at Cassi, and Cassi (at 85 lbs., and one who never jumped on the furniture) jumped on my lap.  When I tried to get her down, she whimpered and trembled until we finally carried Joey into the other room.  That’s the kind of power Joey has.

You would think that Joey would be miserable to be around.  I had a miserable cat like that once – he would knock things over while staring at me, hiss, and then run away.  But Joey isn’t a miserable cat.  Mesmerizing and controlling, yes.  But miserable, no.  Joey purrs and rubs up on you.  He coos when  you talk to him, and follows you around the house….

And this is what he’s been doing on a near-daily basis at my place lately, when he convinces me to let him in.  Joey stands at my slider, whines and cries, and hypnotises me with his swirling hazel eyes until I cave and open the door.

My old age has brought a pretty gnarly cat allergy, but Joey doesn’t care.  He covers every square foot of my trailer, shedding abundantly, charming me with his dashing good looks and brilliant personality.  Before I know it I’m covered in cat fur and my face is itching unbearably, even though I haven’t even touched him.

I have a policy – I don’t feed or pet cats – to keep their interest in me at a minimum.  But Joey isn’t discouraged in my indifference, or my allergies.  He talks to me and shows me love and attention.  I’m convinced that he either gets a kick out of my squirming, or he thinks I’m his girlfriend.

Either way, I think Joey thinks I’m the cat’s meow.  Or at least that’s what he wants me to think.

Rebecca Knabe