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The Story of Bogart the Cat

7 May

Don’t forget! I am being interviewed tonight LIVE on Whispers in the Dark radio from 9 to 11 p.m. (EST) Click here to join, and call in to speak with me:  (347) 884-9923. Until then, check out four of my horror poems the host read for his site by visiting my Other Poems page and clicking the links at the top – OR you can click the links below: (I highly recommend listening to at least one. Not because they are my poems, but rather because Viktor Aurelius is a chilling reader.

In-sum-knee-ah (Insomnia)

This Waiting Place

Her Button Collection, Now Mine

Glitter Rain

After announcing Take Me Tomorrow and sharing the cover, I wanted to share a fun post about my life with everyone – and nothing is more fun than my most trusted companion, Bogart the Cat. You’ve seen photos of him, you’ve read about him, and you’ve even read a blog post by him, but I’ve never explained how Bogart and I met to grow into the cat-friendship we have today.

Before I explain the moment I met Bogart the cat, I want to clarify how I came to the decision to get a cat.

I hated cats. Despised them. Why?

  1. I grew up with dogs – one husky and two malamutes to be exact
  2. When I was seven, my neighbor’s cat scratched me across the face, and I had to wear an eye patch to elementary school – a lasting impression on child me.

I swore off of them. A decade would pass before I would be opened to the wonderful world of a cat lady.

This is a real picture of Lucifer when he was forcing his love on me.

This is a real picture of Lucifer when he was forcing his love on me.

It was 2010. I was a sophomore in college. My roommate agreed to watch a friend’s cat for a while. His name was Lucifer. Yes, Lucifer. And – to my horror – the cat attached itself to my room of all places. (We later found out that the girl who used to live in my room had cats, so this explains why every animal we ever let inside our house gravitated to my room at one point.) At first, I tried to fight him. I kept my door closed – even when I went to the kitchen for a snack – and I avoided him as I went to and from class, especially when he peered at me through cracked doors or parted blinds.

Then, time passed. I started petting him. He purred – which was cool – and he liked tuna as much as I did. Overtime, I settled. I let him in my room, and he watched birds from my window. What can I say? He grew on me. But there was one moment in particular that convinced me to love cats again.

He was sleeping in my bathroom sink. I shared the bathroom with my roommate, and at first, he would leave if we turned on the sink. Then, eventually, he stuck to his guns, and he would sit in the falling water with a smug grin (I swear – an actual grin) on his cat face.

He reminded me of the Cheshire cat from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. 

I laughed so hard that I cried. Even I had to admit it: I liked cats again. I liked them a lot. They were different from dogs, but I liked different. (I still like dogs, of course.)

That’s when the owner came and got him.

The house was quiet. No more cat in the sink. No more cat begging for tuna while I used the can opener. No more cat scratching at my door. No more cat anywhere.

It was lonely.

After careful consideration, I decided I wanted my own kitty cat. In fact, I bought all of the cat’s supplies before I even looked. The last thing I wanted to do was to get a cat and be ill-prepared. I had a climbing tower, a litter box, a pound of food, and even more toys. All before I looked for a kitty. In fact, I had so much stuff for a cat that visitors thought I had a cat, even before I actually had one.

So I was a little bit ahead of myself…but it worked out, because there was a Christmas sale at Wayside Waifs.

In this fantasy, Luna would bring me magical, writing pens.

In this fantasy, Luna would bring me magical, writing pens.

I was just going to look. I swear. My dad was driving, and I still remember what he said on the drive up there, “You will know her when you see her.” (He said “her” because I was set on a female black cat that I could name Luna – after Sailor Moon, of course.) I laughed off his cheesy advice as just that – cheesy. I didn’t know how right he would be.

We entered the cat part. I remember seeing a tabby cat and one grey one that walked around like he owned the place. Then, we turned a corner.

I’m not even kidding when I say this: We met eyes, and I knew.

I practically flew across the room with excitement. I didn’t know if he was a girl or a boy. I just knew that the little kitten was the “one.” I was filled with absolute delight. Bogart – at the time, he was named “Mikey” – just stared up at me with a mixture of confusion and horror. (But don’t worry. He warmed up to me.)

Bogart at Wayside Waifs the day I adopted him. He was four months old.

Bogart at Wayside Waifs the day I adopted him. He was four months old.

I played with him, and I still knew. Wayside Waifs made me play with three other black cats (his siblings) but I still knew. “Mikey” was mine. I signed the paperwork, and his name was officially Bogart. (Named after Humphrey Bogart, of course.)

Now – for the sad part: his past.

Bogart was found in a box on the side of a highway with his three siblings – two girls and one boy. His ears were badly damaged, and the kittens weren’t in good shape. It took four months for them to heal up well enough (and get big enough) for Wayside Waifs to put him and his brother in one cage and his sisters in another. I was the second person to play with Bogart, and the only person to take him home. We had to wait a few weeks because Wayside Waifs was waiting for him to gain enough weight for neutering. (They neuter and spay all of their animals.) But that Christmas was pretty fantastic.

Christmas time

Christmas time

Since then, Bogart and I have been through a lot together. 

We’ve made friends, went on walks, and hung out with family.

fafgr

We’ve moved, and then we moved again.

move

We’ve blogged. (No, seriously, he has blogged on here before.) And we’ve worked so hard that we’ve passed out on my laptop.

work

So we took a break and drank a lot of coffee. (Okay. So I drank the coffee.)

coff

And before we knew it, we got published. (That is a paperback of Minutes Before Sunset beneath him.)

Bo

And even though we got nervous and hid,

nerv

We found a way to smile and celebrate together.

smile

But – most of all – we became best friends. He is my pal. My buddy. My black cat. My Bo-Bo, Fatten, Bo-kitty, Bogie, little panther – my Bogart. And now you know the story behind the little (okay, 18 lb.) cat that I share on here.

~SAT

Remember: I am still accepting questions and comments about my latest novel, Take Me Tomorrow. If you ask a question or comment, leave your website in the commetns below, and I will link to you on Friday’s post when I announce even more!

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