Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Baby Blue...A Canadian kitty who isn't afraid of heights.
I've been told that Baby was found in a park in Toronto where she had been abandoned or lost by her owner. The lady who found her couldn't keep her, and so she ended up with my Dad. He wasn't looking for a cat at the time, but you know how cats are. They find you, weasel their way into your heart, and then you spend the rest of your life serving its every desire. That's how it was with Baby.
Before she knew it she was living on the 21st floor of a high-rise apartment in Etobicoke. Now, she dines on food that is zapped for precisely 15 seconds in the microwave so it is the perfect temperature. She spends her days lounging wherever she desires, helping my father read his newspapers and type on the computer. And whenever she wants, she plays fetch with my father -- because she knows he needs the exercise.
One of her greatest amusements is watching the pigeons that land on her balcony. Convinced that they've come for dinner -- hers -- she freezes, then chatters that funny little cat chat she emits when she gets excited. The pigeons, knowing they're safe outside, ignore her while she sits, paralyzed, in prime pussycat attack position.
One day, when the balcony door was accidentally left open, Baby decided she'd go after those delicious looking pigeons. Before she could be stopped, she'd leapt through the door and standing on the edge of a balcony railing...21 storeys from the ground. My father was mortified. My brother, who happened to be visiting at the time, moved quickly to the balcony to grab Baby before she had a chance to fall. Oh, if only she knew how close she was to flying with those birds!
I've got to admit that this is a case of sheer nepotism. Baby was chosen because she belongs to my father.
Just don't be surprised when my step-father's cat, oddly enough also named "Baby," appears as a Fabulous Feline in the color of snow.
Posted by Deborah Knight at 7:14 AM