The Cat Named Nutter

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. . .

Not really. It was just up the road a ways, and a friend prompted my predicament. I only use that opening cause I love “Star Wars.”

My friend, Delanna Nutter, hates cats. I like cats. So when a kitten showed up at her house, she called me. That was seven years ago, the best we can figure out using veterinarian records.

I claim I just foster this cat, named Nutter in Delanna’s honor, and she still owns this cat. She is in denial, but it doesn’t hurt to try.

That’s because Nutter is nuts. Really nuts.

Nutter doesn’t like people. No one has ever seen Nutter unless he was forced to show himself, such as going to the veterinarian for shots and such. My daughter said she thinks she saw Nutter once. My granddaughter, who was housesitting one time while I was on vacation, freaked out one morning and called me, terrified. She was sure someone had broken in because a table top had been disrupted, lamps knocked over, etc. I told her not to worry. It was just Nutter, doing his nutsy things. Granddaughter has never seen Nutter. Not once in seven years.

The last time Nutter went to the vet for his shots, it took three people to hold him down while one administered the shots. And the whole time Nutter made noises like an angry grizzly bear. This all took place in a cat cage! I was the only one who shed blood.

But Nutter likes me. I’m sure that’s because I’m the one who delivers his cat kibble every day. And even then he doesn’t like me in the summer. It’s too hot to like anybody. The only thing Nutter does in the summer is lay in front of the air conditioner, spread out like a bear rug. He likes me more in the winter cause he likes to cuddle up when it’s cold. 

But this house cat, who I swear must have a little bit of raccoon in his blood cause he likes to wash his paws in his water dish, weighs about 20 pounds. So, when he cuddles up in the winter by wrapping himself around my head or perching on my chest while I sleep, he often just gets kicked out of bed.

In the summer, Nutter’s life is just eat, sleep and make stinky messes I have to clean up. I was seriously considering kicking him out. It was time for him to return to the real, outdoor world where he could make it on his own. And find a sand pile I didn’t have to sift daily.

But while I considered de-catting my house, the rats moved in. I’m not sure why. Several years ago, we had a pack rat epidemic. Pack rats like to chew on vehicle wires, and I had to have mine towed in three times for repairs. Once I ended up in a long line. “There’s a pack rat epidemic,” I was told. A few poison baits solved my problem, but I sure don’t like to do that.

Then, all of a sudden, here the rats are again. I hate rats. I suspect bird feeders attracted the rats to the dropped bird seed. It sure attracted the squirrels and rabbits. So I stopped feeding the birds.

The rats persisted.

And when one decided it was going to make a home under my new riding lawn mower, and its wiring, I took drastic measures. I turned the lawn mower on. OK. OK. I felt a bit guilty later, but that rat’s demise was quick, and I hope painless.

I didn’t care about that rat that moved into the house. Rats in the house get instant death penalty. I bought a rat trap. How does a rat get the peanut butter off the trap without getting snapped? It even broke the trap!

Poison is out of the question. Too dangerous for all involved, like grandchildren and pets.

I was still mulling over my options – like locking all foodstuffs up in metal containers – when Nutter solved the problem and eluded eviction.

On a trip to the bathroom in the middle of the night last week, I was surprised to find one very dead rat, on its back with all four feet in the air, neatly deposited in my bathroom sink. I might have screamed just a bit when I discovered the gift. But I know Nutter put that rat there just for me. If Nutter had thumbs, he would probably have wrapped a red ribbon around it.

So far, no more rats have been seen, and I believe Nutter has taken care of the problem. So Nutter is back in my good graces, and he is back to laying in front of the air conditioner. We’ll see how long this lasts. He is Delanna’s cat after all.