My cat protected me from Norman Bates’s…

Every morning when I showered, Boo would come into the bathroom, lay down on the rug, and carefully watch the door, standing between me and any knife-wielding characters with Mother fixations who might happen to come by. We never knew why she did this – maybe she saw “Psycho” as an impressionable kitten. All I know is every shower, she was there and as I stepped out of it, I thanked her for protecting me.

Then she was off, on her way to some other cat duty…

Boo came into our lives eight years ago, in October of 2002. Dee Dee was driving one night and saw a box sitting in the middle of the street. Through a hole in the box, a pair of eyes looked at her.

Stopping and opening the box, she found a young cat, tied to a brick so she couldn’t get out. Someone, obviously, had put her there to get hit by a car. Someone, obviously, needs to be beaten to death…

She came home and I met her at the door. She said “Surprise! We have a new member of the family!” and handed me a box full of kitty.

She named her Boo. It was nearly Halloween, what else could she name her?

Boo was maybe six months old. She was skinny, still full of kitten energy, and very affectionate to us. She loved to play with toys, she loved to climb on things, she loved to nap on the waterbed.

As the years went by, Boo grew up. We got other cats, which she either regarded as her kittens or toys, as the mood struck her. And though she was the smallest of our four cats, she was always the alpha, the cat in charge, the queen.

Queen Boo was mistress of all she surveyed – and she kept trying to get higher so she could survey more. She cheered us up when we were depressed, amused or annoyed us when we weren’t. She demanded many good scritchings a day – especially on the sidewalk as we left or arrived at the house – and bits of whatever we were eating. Actually, she wanted all of what we where eating, but we managed to keep her little piddy-paws out of our food enough to get some of our own meals.

Of course, they were actually her meals, as she would tell you.

When Boo wasn’t lording over the inside of the house from the cat-throne (the back of the chair), she would lay on the front porch and watch her subjects go by. Then she’d stroll down to the sidewalk to watch the water show – or what we call “the sprinklers going off” – and then come in and have a good nap in the window, belly pressed against the screen to catch the cool breezes. Then it was up again to demand something to eat – preferably with tomato sauce.

Boo loved tomato sauce.

This morning, like years worth of mornings before, I let the cats out. About an hour later, three cats rocketed inside and I heard Boo hissing out front. Running to the front door, I saw her being attacked by two coyotes. They come down from the mountains this low sometimes. I ran them off and picked up Boo, crying in pain, and brought her back to the house. Her movements slowed and she died, on the porch from where she ruled the world…

Boo – 2002-2010

The bested cat in the world: We know, she always agreed when we called her that…




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