Friday, March 16, 2012
After Orestes determined that he would join us in walking the dog around the block, Electra felt left out and would voice her discontent. One day she screwed up her courage and trotted after us, calling the entire way. With much encouragement she finally made it. Thereafter, we were known in the neighborhood as the people who walked their cats. [As the cats know, we were really the family where the cats walked their people.]
After Orestes’ death in 2008, Electra literally found her voice. She learned to hold conversations and would berate her staff should they not serve a meal on time or open the door quickly enough to let her in or out or in again. She had always been a lap cat with family, but she replaced her brother as the greeter of company, paying particular attention to those most allergic to cat dander.
She did have a few peculiarities. She was convinced that weather should be different between the back door and front door and that her servants were responsible for bad weather. Any water found outside, regardless of its color or texture, was better than the water her servants provided inside—the possible exception being that from the toilet bowl. She trained dogs—just ask Morgan or her predecessor Thoreau who was in charge.
She knew the pleasures of being a hearth cat and would follow the sun from one favorite perch to another. She was a thoroughly satisfactory cat; I hope she can say the same about us. She is survived by her Golden Retriever, Morgan, and her staff, Jan and Jim.