The Return of Ignatz, or How Our Cat Fell in Love with a Mouse.
A Grieving Cat can turn to Strange Company
Back in August of ’22, our beloved Primary Cat, Widget, died after more than 18 years of faithful service as devoted friend to me and then to my lady. I had brought Widget back from Southern California when she was young, and Widget never seemed to be sociable to outsiders — until said lady showed up, and she became her devoted companion. But I digress, and I will some more, because during Widget’s declining years a stranger emerged from the sewer out front, a kitten whose owner we never were able to locate, and so adopted. We named her Nah’la, and Widget disliked her as much as she loved our dog, Honey, who was also getting up in age. When Widget died, Honey almost lost her dog mind, and she grieved for a good six months. The loss also seemed to affect her health, or maybe just sped up the aging process a little. Meanwhile, Nah’la, who loves everybody, fell in love with Dog, and she and Widget shared Mama and Dog both, but never at the same time. Well, rarely. It did happen a few times.
Nah’la loved her Dog, and was always happy when she came out of her quarters to take care of dog business. Nah’la would roll on the floor under her paws (and Honey was very careful not to step on her). Nah’la would also play punch her upside her jaw, or try and do a Kruger National Park takedown, like a lion attacking a gazelle or something. Except for the size problem, of course. She also loved to to walk under dog (who was tall for her size) because she knew it drove her crazy.
Recently, right around New Years, Honey Dog, never the picture of health, but a lovely, funny, and disturbingly smart canine, developed congestive heart failure. It seemed to be sudden in onset, and Nah’la had a hard time understanding why Dog had to isolate so much. Then, right after the new year was ushered in, Honey Dog died, here at home, with Mama alone to deal with it and comfort her in her passing. She went about 15 minutes before I got home from work (in a local ER) that evening.
The next few weeks were excruciating for all of us. Weird, too, as I guess it always is when a loved one departs suddenly. Too quiet. Missing rituals. A blank space in this little world we keep here at the Estate. And above all, sad. It is the nature of things, of course, and we’ve dealt with it.
Nah’la didn’t take it too well once she understood (and she did understand, being very intelligent just like Dog had been, and Widget too, come to think of it, which explains why we are always being outwitted by our animals).
Nah’la was sad and it showed — until one day when a mouse got into the house. Now, back in Widget’s heyday, a mouse in the house was something that took place in the blink of an eye. Widget was a killing machine. Beautiful and loving toward those she loved, but she loved no mouse nor chipmunks either. Oh, the mayhem.
The house had been rodent free during Widget’s reign.
Then this mouse showed up. Nah’la was animated again. Obsessed, in fact. She moves like lightning, so we figured the mouse would be mincemeat in no time, but something went awry.
Mouse has been here for more than a week now, and when it disappears or fails to appear, Nah’la grows morose. Then the thing runs across my lady’s foot in the kitchen, a scream is heard, and Nah’la is on the case. She’s caught the mouse countless times, but doesn’t kill it. Instead she carries it like a kitten, takes it to here cardboard box “house,” lays it down, and waits for it to revive. She watches then as it walks away, and she follows it. Then there will be skittering and running around, and then Nah’la goes on mouse watch for hours at a time, ignoring both us humans. If Mouse doesn’t show up for hours or a day she grows mopey again, but then it starts all over once more.
We’ve concluded that like Krazy Kat, she’s found her Ignatz.
What?
Jesus, how short are people’s memories? Ignatz and Krazy Kat (actually it was Ignatz who called the cat “Krazy Kat”) were the primary characters (and perhaps the only ones) in a long-running comic strip by George Herriman, that ran from 1913 till 1944 in newspapers (at first the Hearst papers, ultimately most papers, via King Syndicate. A brief description from Krazy and Ignatz’ Wikipedia page sums it up pretty well: “The strip focuses on the curious relationship between a guileless, carefree, simple-minded cat named Krazy and a short-tempered mouse named Ignatz. Krazy nurses an unrequited love for the mouse. However, Ignatz despises Krazy and constantly schemes to throw bricks at Krazy’s head, which Krazy interprets as a sign of affection…”.
Oh yeah, there was a cop, too, in the strip. He was obsessed with taking Ignatz in for assault and battery. A few other random animals, too.
The romance took place in what was based on Herriman’s vacation home in Arizona, and it was a story set in a largely surreal world (of course) which made the whole thing somehow resonate with Americans of a certain age.
Author’s note: Yes, the the strip stopped running in 1944, and one’s reporter was born in 1945, but the thing was so embedded in the collective conscious by then that not only could one not avoid hearing quotes from it for decades, but it actually developed something of a post-publication cult. There are collections. There are still fans. And yes, I am one, and have been for my entire (so far) life.
Nah’la is in love with a mouse. Mouse has no recourse to bricks, nor the strength to throw even one, but it keeps on coming out anyway, and Nah’la continues to moon over the thing. We live in dread of the mouse either accidentally being killed or just reaching its expiration date. Meanwhile, though, it has taken up residence in the pantry, and Nah’la’s food bowls are right next to that location, so yes, it does come out to dine there, and Nah’la lets it eat, doesn’t bother it at all.
Hell breaks loose later.
