Abby informed me that Martha Kitty Cat has passed on. While Martha only lived with us for a brief time (alas before the advent of digital photos, so we don't have any easily accessible photos of her), I'll pass along some thoughts about and memories of her.
In the fall of 1998, we were living in a bright, sunny apartment on the third floor of a three-flat building on N. Clifton Ave. in Chicago. From the back porch, I could see the lights of Wrigley Field and hear the faint roar of the crowd when the Cubs were playing. Our favorite, inexpensive Indian restaurant, Moti Mahal, was right around the corner (Moti Mahal changed ownership shortly after we left Chicago and was never the same again.) I was working on my dissertation while Abby was working nasty hours at a big law firm. At some point, it became clear that I wasn't going to finish my dissertation in time to get a job that year, so we decided that the natural course of action was to get a dog. Some research suggested that we should get a Border Collie, the smartest darn dog breed out there, so we ended up driving to a farm out past De Kalb, way west of Chicago, where we met a red and white bundle of fur who wiggled around between our legs and licked our faces. Abby carried Maddie wrapped up in a blanket on the way home.
At the same time, Abby's sister Eleanor was travelling through Central America. She had left her stuff, most notably her cat Martha, with her boyfriend in Chicago at the time, a fellow named Mike. At some point, Eleanor and Mike had a falling out at which point Mike decided that he wanted to unload all of Eleanor's possessions despite her absence. Since we were the most natural recipients, we inherited everything. Including Eleanor's Steely Dan CDs and, more importantly, the cat. After a few weeks of negotiations, Mike ended up depositing everything, including the cat, with us on almost the exact day that we brought Maddie, the puppy, home.
Even then, Martha was reputed to be an older cat - it was speculated that she was around 9 years old at the time. As an older cat, Martha had no interest in the shenanigans of a puppy. Maddie would rush up with lots of gusto at which point Martha would hiss and swing at the dog. Despite being declawed, Martha was intimidating enough that her posturing would send Maddie scurrying behind the futon against the wall.
But while Martha won every battle with Maddie, she couldn't win the war due to our natural bias towards the puppy and Martha's general lack of enthusiasm for confrontation. We had a small office/alcove off the living room that we blocked off with a buffet to keep out the dog. Martha spent most of her time during the day loitering in that area or lounging on the buffet watching the silly puppy dog. Occasionally, I would give Martha the remnants of a tuna fish can, which could entice her to enter the main part of the house. The nighttime, however, was Martha's time. At night, we'd close Maddie up in her crate at which point Martha would prowl through the apartment, hunting mice during the notorious mouse infestation that we experienced in that apartment and eventually winding up on our bed to sleep.
I remember one time when Maddie was outside at an unexpected time at night. Martha walked to the crate and looked in the front door. She seemed baffled by the absence of the puppy. She then walked around to the side of the crate and lifted herself up to peer through the side screen as if the new vantage point would reveal the location of the dog. Once she realized that the dog wasn't there, she dashed back to the safety of her office.
At the same time, Martha could be mean to Maddie. Not only did she know that her hissing terrified the dog, but she would also loiter in front of Maddie's crate at night, preening and grooming herself while the dog whined. Payback is hell, she seemed to be saying to the dog.
Eventually, however, Maddie earned nighttime bed privileges at which point Martha and Maddie arrived at a sort of nighttime truce. Martha would sleep at the head of the bed up with us, while Maddie would sleep where she still sleeps to this day, at the foot of the bed. An occasional, dispassionate hiss was all that was needed to keep everyone in line.
Martha was an incredibly affectionate cat. She would meow and curl in and out of your legs until you gave her attention. She is with us today since the phrase "Martha Kitty Cat" still sends Maddie into a paroxysm in which she runs around searching for the cat. My personal attitude about cats has always been that there are good cats and bad cats, but the problem is that, unlike with a dog, you cannot train a bad cat to become a good cat. Although I haven't seen her in years (the last time I saw her in the late 90s in Oakland, she smelled Maddie and ran for cover), Martha truly was a good cat.
