By Mr. Schnell
He showed up one day in the back yard. Shy. Wouldn’t come down off the hill. He kept his distance. I put out some food and eventually, over time, he developed trust.
I took him to the veterinarian and got him neutered and shots. My wife named him “Baby-Boy” (that’s what is on his paperwork at the clinic).
He worked his way into the house and that was four or five years ago. He comes in and sacks out on the bed, sofa, or ottoman all day. I got in the habit of calling him Bunky. It stuck.
He is an outdoor cat and goes out around 6 PM and returns at 6 AM. He is totally mellow. He doesn’t claw furniture, or use an indoor cat box. He goes outside. He tolerates the neighbor kid who pulls his tail and pets him kinda rough. When he has had enough he takes off for the woods.
Bunky is responsible for keeping me sane while Trump was destroying democracy and the country for the last four years. I would ask Bunk about what he thinks of Trump. No comment. He just settles in beneath the bird feeder waiting for a bird. He terrorizes grasshoppers, toads, lizards, earthworms, field mice, volls, and small garden snakes. He can’t catch the rabbits. They are way too fast. The rabbits know it too. They let him get close then blast away effortlessly.
He has a peace accord worked out with the local sunflower seed eating fox that shows up now and again.
Bunky doesn’t buy into social media, watch the news, or follow politics. Nope. He tom-cats all night. Comes home to eat and crash all day then repeat. Calm, laid back. I watch and admire. Like I said … he keeps me sane.
Bunky has one funny habit. He is persistent with this. Around 5 PM he wants out but keeps looking my way and meowing. If I am busy drawing cartoons or on the computer he gets in my way sitting on the key board or taking over my chair.
I tell him, “Okay, let’s go!” I head for the door, he jumps up to take the lead and outside we go. There is a small patch of woods out back so I take a camping chair. I’ll sit and a few minutes later he is in my lap. He nuzzles the bill of my ball cap until it falls to the ground. He’ll then gently kneads my coat or shirt with his front paws, prepping his nap site. Settles in and starts cat snoring. We’re out in the woods but he’s real comfortable. I’ve got look-out duty in case of fox, coyotes, or whatever.
After thirty minutes he sits up, leaps to the ground, and off he goes.
That is his routine. I won’t see him again until 6 AM when he comes looking for his Fancy Feast.
Now I can go back to the house and finish my cartoon undisturbed; something to trigger a trump supporter …
Life is good.