Meatloaf Cat

I've had several pets in my years. One of the most -- memorable -- was Morticia. Pure black semi-longhair. Just a couple of white hairs on her chest, all the rest dead black. Named for Morticia Addams. Indoor cat, all my cats are always indoor cats.

I call her the meatloaf cat because she was a meatloaf. If there was a lap, she'd be in it. Provided the person met her standards. (I should have listened when I brought home a lady Tish wouldn't put up with. Tish was right.) She was also the silly putty cat. You could try to put her out of your lap, but she'd be back in it in the time it took you to put your hands down and start to get up. As if your hands had passed right through her.

I had a nice little yard, with a secure fence, and on really nice days I liked to sit on the porch reading. I'd leave the front door open so Tish could come outside and explore if she wanted to. I watched her very closely until I was sure she had no interest in leaving the yard.

But I didn't realize just how much of an indoor cat she was until the day I saw her get up from where she'd been laying in the grass, trot into the house, use her litter box, then trot back outside!


I guess she didn't realize she could do that outside.