Stories from The Whiner: Monkey Toss

Welcome to a new series on Wonderpurr.com called Stories from The Whiner.

Hi, it’s me. Dori. *wavy paws* As I didn’t make my debut into The Wonderpurr Gang until a couple years ago, I wasn’t a part of the Whiner stories. I thought seriously about suing…but then Hwermie suggested I host this series. I may still sue…but until I can scrape together more than two huge quarters to hire a lawyer (think they cost four huge quarters) I’m stuck doing this gig.

Today’s episode features Buddy, the most wonderpurr tabby that ever graced Mom’s life–except for me!

Diagnosed with diabetes at age 10, he lived to be 22. He traveled everywhere with my parents cuz he needed insulin shots, but that didn’t slow him down. In fact, here’s a photo of me and Buddy taken shortly after I joined the family:

Awww, I was so pwecious!

Anyway! In this episode, a much younger Buddy–about age 8, teaches my Mom about having fun with things you find lying around the house. And now…Monkey Toss!

In Jacksonville, Florida, due to the small confines of our home, our round-eyed tabby with a purr-petual smirk on his puss started to gain weight. So when Buddy tipped the scales at 13 pounds, I talked Ray into buying a treadmill. I knew Buddy well enough that he would joyfully walk on it—and he did, with such glee that he would “jog” for anyone who wanted to see him in action.

Always willing to please, Bud would grab a milk ring in his mouth and then run with it. Why the milk ring, we never knew. That was just Bud. He even ran for people who came with our realtor when our home was on the market. One guy actually wanted to buy Buddy upon seeing him perform.

When we moved to Kentucky the treadmill was taken apart and never reassembled. It wasn’t actually needed as we now had two sets of stairs and large rooms for the cats to zoom through. And I do mean zoom. Buddy and his best girl, Holly—a Snowshoe Siamese with Liz Taylor blue eyes—will rev their engines in the kitchen, and then scream their way through the living room, up the stairs, and through the room at the top of the stairs that ran shotgun over the top of the garage.

The milk rings in Kentucky don’t have the same kind of round, firm consistency as the Florida rings. Bud finds them sorely lacking, and has transferred his affection to my cloth hair bands. As I have about six of them, I didn’t see the harm in sharing them with him. Until…

Until one morning when I awoke to feel someone tugging the band from my hair. I opened my eyes just as Buddy jerked the band free and took off with it. Clearly I’d created a monster.

Now he follows me to the bedroom sink every morning, jumps onto the counter and waits until I remove the hairband. Then he grabs it and takes off. One morning I had intensions of putting the band back in my hair, but he did the proverbial Grab and Go before I could stop him. As I was down to just that one band…I chased him into Holly’s Room—the large two room apartment over the garage—and tackled him to get it back.

“He wants you to play fetch,” Ray told me from the door. “Throw the ring and he’ll bring it back to you.” He then disappeared downstairs, leaving me to throw my hairband until my arm ached, with Buddy fetching and dropping it at my feet each and every time.

Over the next few weeks this became our morning routine. Bud would Grab and Go, and wait for me in Holly’s Room. We’d play a rousing game of fetch until either he or I flopped down with exhaustion.

If it was Bud, I’d take my hair band and leave.

If it was me, I’d just leave. But then I’d be in the kitchen and hear him yowl upstairs, calling for me. When the yowling persisted, I’d go to the stairs where he stood at the top with my hair band in his mouth, gazing down at me with disappointment.

As I said, I’ve created a monster. For now if I need a hair band, I have to search the house for one, always starting with Buddy. They can be anywhere—under a table, on the back porch, on the coffee table, or on one of the bay window seats. On more than one occasion I’ve even found a hair band lying in Buddy’s food dish.

Anyway! I grew bored with the same ol’ fetch and retrieve game, and one time I snatched up a 3” toy monkey and tossed it instead.

I also fetched it.

Bud is a purist. He didn’t want to deviate from the hair band. But I’m tenacious and twisted the hair band around the monkey’s neck. I tossed it again, and this time Mr. Purist ran to pick it up. It was rather heavy—well, heavier than the hair band—so he dropped it. I tossed it again, and this time he picked it up and brought it half way across the room. Over time he transferred his purist ideals from the hand band to the monkey.

Buddy gazed at me with disappointment, my hair band in his mouth. Click To Tweet

When I showed Ray he said it was a cute trick, but if Buddy really wants to make it big in Hollywood, I needed to teach him how to fetch something a little more marketable…like a McDonald’s cheeseburger.

What a great idea! I envisioned people wanting to buy Teeny Beanie Buddy dolls included in the kid’s meal deals.

Who knows…he might even kick some Chihuahua butt and steal a commercial deal.

Yo queiro, Taco Bud?

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3 Comments

  • Buddy must have been a great cat. He sure led an interesting and fun life. Not that you aren’t a great cat with an interesting life, Dori. (We don’t want to be sued for ignoring you.) We will be looking forward to more Whiner posts.

  • I also had a cat named Boxer who was a fetcher like Buddy. He too loved milk rings and he was a polydactyl cat with extra toes that worked like thumbs for him. He would catch them in the air between his paws and take them from there into his mouth, trot over and lay them in my lap. We called the game “Birdie”.

    If milk rings weren’t to be found, any other type of ring would do, even those yellow zip ties you used to get with baggies.

    He also stole a little pink stuffed bunny that said “ya, somebunny loves you” when you squeezed it and would carry it all around the house saying it over and over. That is until he left it in his water dish one too many times.

    He would also grab my arm as I brushed my hair so I would brush him. I loved that cat. One of my favorites of all time.

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