Royce gives Wry a cushion as he takes his first steps

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Royce gives Wry a cushion as he takes his first steps

Baby Wry took his first step last night! It happened in the kitchen. I did not have my camera. I ran to get it. As I came back with it, he and his Mom had moved to the living room, where he had just taken his second step.

Now he was ready to take a third, and I had my camera ready. Prickly Pear Blossom held out her hands, beckoning her son to come to her.

But Baby... no, no, no... but Toddler Wry turned toward Royce. He walked right to Royce...

And then he dived, right into Royce's fur!

Royce watched with pride as Toddler Wry walked wobbly, but confidently away.

There is, of course, more to this story, as was documented on that blog in the parallel universe.

6 comments:

Elin said...: I love this post!
Royce, u are super nice!
and what a cute todler.. with a very beautiful eyes :)

xxxxxxxxx; March 5, 2009 at 6:23 AM
momsbusy said...: royce, you are a great cat to let baby wry use you to cushion his "fall".

wooo hooo! baby wry is now a toddler!; March 5, 2009 at 8:14 AM
Memories of Eric and Flynn said...: Well done baby Wry and what a lovely soft landing he had.; March 5, 2009 at 2:42 PM
Margaret Cloud said...: These are very cute pictures, it is a joy to witness their first steps. I can still remember my first taking his steps, he had to grab hold of his shirt, this gave him the confidence he needed, he is now going on 49 years old. Hope your weekend will be a great one.; March 6, 2009 at 5:20 AM
ZOOLATRY said...: Good kitty, tackled by the babe and loving it.; March 7, 2009 at 2:49 AM
~Story said...: WGT Wry!!!!! And Royce, yoo are an amazing cushion!!! What a wunderful moment for Momma too!

:D; March 16, 2009 at 6:22 AM

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Due to an unfortunate series of events that beset me as a child, I grew up believing myself to be a despiser of cats. After I married, five children came to Sunflower and I, and when my two youngest, both daughters, would see someone giving away kittens in the parking lot of the local grocery store, they would beg, "Please, Daddy! Let us take home a kitten!"

With a smile, a tilt of the head and the bat of an eye, Tryskuit and Nabysko could charm just about anything they wanted out of me, but towards cats, my heart was hard. "No!" I would deny them, "Dogs are fine, dogs are good, but let just one thing be understood: in my house, there are no cats allowed!"

And then on a hot July day in Alaska, in the year 1991, a skinny kitten stepped out of the woods behind our house - quite literally, he stepped out of a dream and came to me, to beg for my ham. He relished the ham, but he did not care for the pickle, nor the mustard.

That cat stayed, and more followed. These are the Kracker Cats, and in this blog, the stories of all will be told. These will be happy stories, humourous stories, frustrating stories, sad stories, tragic stories. Readers - you who love cats - you will laugh, and you will cry!

To see all the Kracker Cats, both the original and contemporary, scroll down.

I travel a great deal, mostly in Alaska, but I wander into many other places as well. As my children grew, I was gone from home as much as not, sometimes more. When I was home, I would tell my children bedtime stories. By the time Kaboodle appeared at our house, the boys had outgrown these stories but my daughters still thrived on them.

Now, they insisted that every story that I tell be about a cat. So I made up some wonderful ones, right on the spot, and I was always as curious as they were to see how these stories would turn out.

Then one day as I was about to climb into my airplane and fly off to a village in the Alaska bush, Nabysko, the youngest, looked up at me and said, "Daddy! Write us a cat story while you are gone!"

So I did. Not long after, I happened upon a cat. I took its picture. I inquired about its history. When I returned home, I showed the picture to the girls, and told them what I had learned about the cat's history.

Ever since, wherever I go, I try to find and photograph a cat, and learn what I can about its history.

Hence, "Cats Met Along The Way." And always I keep in mind the wise admonition of Persimon Munk:

"Every cat has a story."

Charlie Chaplain, above, chosen at random, is just one of the hundreds of cats that I have met along the way, in every region of Alaska, 24 states, DC, four Canadian provinces, England, Russia and India.

And I will be meeting more, in many other places.

As my children grew, Sunflower was forever scolding me about all these lies that I told them. "You should write these stories down!" she insisted. I ignored this advice, but then, one summer, I decided to write down a few of the tails about cats that I had told to Tryskuit and Nabysko.

These are the stories that will appear in this section of the blog.

Above is an image, created by my talented niece, Amber Swallow, when she was still in high school, to help illustrate a story about Art, a cat who tried to fly his Catabria airplane over Denali.

If any of you southerners are confused by this word, "Denali," it is the name of the mountain that so many well-intentioned folk who don't know any better mistakenly call "Mt. Mc... Mt. McK... Mt. Mck... in... in.. le.." Oh, hell! I can't even say it! I'm not talking about a hamburger here! I'm talking about the highest mountain in North America, the mountain that rises higher vertically over the surrounding terrain than does any other mountain in the world.

I'm talking about Denali.