Traveling With a Determined Cat

Gill family photos at 818 10th Street South, Moorhead, Minnesota: Boots and Star on the TV; Star on the 'tree' in the bedroom, Boots on the couch (living room, in the background), looking over someone's shoulder. (ca. 1970)
Left, Boots & Star enjoying the TV. (ca. 1970)

My folks tell me that Boots was the liveliest of his litter. But Boots was a cat, so he was often anything but lively. Regal, yes; spritely, no.

His capacity for liveliness may explain why my father made a strong wooden box for him.

A little context about that. While I was growing up, my folks would spend a week’s vacation somewhere in Minnesota’s lake country, north of Park Rapids. One year they took Boots along. Maybe they had the previous year, too, and that was why Dad made that box.

A Family, a Vacation, and a Determined Cat

Anonymous photo from The Old Car Manual Project: Brochures. 1957 Pontiac Chieftain four-door sedan. See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pontiac_Chieftain
My folks had a car not unlike this one.

I don’t know whether Dad started with a sturdy container or made it from scratch. But I am quite certain that he made the hinges.

Those hinges were broad straps cut from an inner tube. Back then, many or most automobile tires had inner tubes.

The point is that the hinges, although pliable, were not at all flimsy.

With the top of the box down and latched, there was a gap almost an inch wide on either side. This gave Boots quite adequate ventilation, but probably not a satisfactory view.

Boots hadn’t wanted to get in the box. Once inside, he used the lid’s gaps to inform us of his displeasure. After we started driving toward Park Rapids, however, he seemed to accept his current position.

Then we heard a loud SNAP. One of the inner tube hinges had broken. By the time we looked, Boots had repositioned himself and was pushing his back against the lid near its remaining hinge.

My folks decided that they’d let Boots out. Partly, they said, because he’d very likely snap the remaining hinge before we reached our destination.

So we swung the lid up, giving us a good look at Boots; who was now sitting up, looking at us and panting.

Home at Last!!!

Charles le Brun's illustration, detail: 'The Expressions', from 'Traité des Passions' (Treatise on the Passions). (1649)
Detail, C. le Brun’s “The Experessions”. (1649)

Cats don’t have particularly expressive faces, certainly not compared to us, but their ears and body language take up the slack quite adequately.

My memory tells me that the look Boots gave us said something like ‘well, it’s about time’. On the other hand, maybe I’m anthropomorphizing — I’ll get back to that.

All this happened well over a half-century ago. My memory can be a tad creative, so I’m not utterly certain that the rest of this story happened during the same vacation.

Either way, Boots had been with us during the one-week-at-a-lake vacation, and it was time to go home. My folks decided that they’d make the journey easier for all of us by having a vet give Boots something to keep him relaxed.

He was definitely relaxed on the trip home. Quiet. Languid.

One of us carried him in when we got back to 818, placing him on the living room floor.

He paused, then — very carefully, one step at a time, never wavering in his focus on the living room’s southeast corner — he proceeded until he was past one of chairs.

Then he stopped, pausing a moment or two before sedately tipping over on his right side. He remained in that position for an hour or so.

Boots seemed fine the next day, but we didn’t try putting him in a DIY cat carrier again.

Animals, Being Human, Making Sense

John Tenniel's 'Executioner argues with King about cutting off Cheshire Cat's head, from 'Alice in Wonderland', Lewis Carroll. (1865, republished 1866)
Tenniel’s (fictional) Cheshire Cat. (1866)

I said I’d get back to “anthropomorphizing”: our habit of attributing human emotions, motives, and intent to other critters.

I got to know cats while growing up, and met a fair number of dogs and other animals. This was back when ‘animals neither feel pain nor experience emotions’ was still considered “scientific” in some circles.

I was and am fascinated by science, humanity’s ongoing effort to understand this wonder-packed universe. But I wasn’t such a fanboy that some alleged expert saying ‘this is scientific’ impressed me to the point that I’d ignore what I see.

Basically, my experience with animals in general and cats in particular very strongly suggested that they experience emotions much the same way we do. And that cats, at least, were far from stupid.

This emphatically does not mean that I’m with the ‘poodles are people’ set.

As usual, I’ve talked about that, and cats I’ve known, before:


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About Brian H. Gill

I was born in 1951. I'm a husband, father and grandfather. One of the kids graduated from college in December, 2008, and is helping her husband run businesses and raise my granddaughter; another is a cartoonist and artist; #3 daughter is a writer; my son is developing a digital game with #3 and #1 daughters. I'm also a writer and artist.
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