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Meet Milo Lebowitz |
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Please allow me to introduce myself. I'm a cat of wealth and taste. I've been around for a long, long time... No, I am not the devil, nor do I require any sympathy. I just wanted to get your attention, so you would keep reading. Well, it worked didn't it? My name is Milo Lebowitz, and I am a debonair orange tabby cat of considerable charm and charisma, or so I've been told! If my name is familiar to you, most likely you have read one of the stories my human, Ruth has written about me. But if you want to get a first-hand look at my life and times, keep reading. This story is the first chapter of my memoirs, which give all indications of becoming of Proustian proportions. After all, I have at least nine lives, and have had many adventures in lives I have lived thus far, and anticipate many more jolly good adventures in my lives to come. Where to begin? Ahem... I was born. No, that's David Copperfield, and not the illusionist but the author! Not only am I a handsome cat, but am well-versed in the classics as well. Alas, fewer cats read the classics these days. With the advent of the computer, humans and regrettably cats, as well, are easily seduced into reading pulp fiction, and even trashy novels! There are even electronic novels now in this digital age, and I fear if this trend continues, the libraries may well have to close their doors. But I digress.. As I was saying, before I took that quantum leap, I was born of humble parentage. My mother was a comely black tuxedo kitty and my purported father was a handsome orange tabby cat, who was a Merchant Marine on shore-leave. My susceptible mater, fell "head-over-paws" in love with this capricious cad, since she had a weakness for a cat in uniform. If he were in his "mufti", she might never have been seduced by this handsome stranger. But then, I never would have been conceived, and thus, have no memoirs to write. So, in the style of the picaresque novel, I was born out of wedlock, and sired by a tabby who proved himself a bounder and a cad, by abandoning my poor mother when she was quite "enceinte". Since my lovely mother was penniless, she sent me off to live with a kindly vet, who promised her he would provide shelter for both myself and my fair sister, Otie. True to his word, he took us in, and not only offered us sustenance, but education as well. He taught us to read and to write, and we learned to appreciate the classics at a tender age of ten weeks. Since Otie and I were such precocious students, the good doctor persevered and taught us French and German as well. Fair Otie learned to play the pianoforte, and in the evenings, we would all gather around the hearth and have many a spirited sing-along with Otie as the accompaniest. Although our host was kindly, and his hospitality, unimpeachable, there was a tacit understanding that we would have to find a suitable human to adopt us, preferably together. Otie and I became well-versed in the time-honored art of "The Silent Miaow", whereby a cat can communicate without uttering a single syllable. One only has to look into the eyes of a susceptible human, and one's innermost thoughts and wishes are communicated, albeit silently. We also practiced "headbonks", since body language should never be underestimated. Sonorous purring was another art we practiced, since it is quite effective on humans. Now all we had to do was bide our time, waiting for the right human to discover us. Our wait was not a long one. One fine day, an amiable young woman named Ruth, showed up at the vet's home, because she had heard of a young adult kitty in need of a good home. Unfortunately for that kitty, but fotunately for us, the chemistry was not right. Ready to go home, crestfallen and empty-handed, she was stopped dead in her tracks, when the vet called out in his booming baritone, "Wait Ruth - how about kittens?" Ah, that vet knew a golden opportunity when he saw one. He brought forth both Otie and myself, one in each of his massive palms. Well, we began our "cute act", and commenced purring, giving headbonks, and gazing into Ruth's eyes, speaking volumes, although not a single syllable had been uttered. Thank you, Paul Gallico, you literary patron saint of homeless kitties! That good old "Silent Miaow" closed the deal. Ruth was hooked! Being an indecisive woman, she could not choose which one of us to take home. Then the good doctor moved in for the kill - "Ruth, you must take both. How can you separate them? They sleep together, dine together, practice French and German together and practice the pianoforte together. Please take them both." Well, that clinched the deal - she was putty in our capable paws! Off we went with Ruth, to begin this new chapter of our life at that amiable hostelry called "Chez Lebowitz". Otie and I settled in comforably right away. We met a lovely tiger-striped tabbie, named Alison. She was quite motherly, and took us under her maternal wing. Alison, Otie and I got along so famously, that Ruth dubbed us her "Peaceable Kingdom". Before long, another kitty joined our happy home. Her name was "Ditzy", and she certainly lived up to her name. She had been trained as a pugilist, and chose yours truly, Milo Lebowitz, as her wrestling partner of choice. Ditzy had quite a healthy appetite, and she became a rather rotund kitty, which proved just perfect for her sport of choice - sumo wrestling. Ditzy and I spent many congenial hours in the evening, wrestling companionably by the hearth. There were sign-alongs at Chez Lebowitz, and invitations to our get-togethers became quite coveted, since the hospitality of our benefactress, Ruth, was unimpeachable. Although I do so love the company of women, there are times when a gentleman cat such as myself needs to be alone. So, I made myself a lair, a private retreat that I dubbed, my "sanctum sanctorum". When the company of all those females palls, I retreat to my cozy den, which is furnished with such genteel appurtenances as comfy armchairs, a small library, and such comestibles, as catnip brandy, and even fine catnip cigars, one of my few necessary indulgences. At times, I am visited by like-minded tabby cats, such as my good friend, Biffy York, who is quite a bon-vivant kitty, my agreeable new friend, Cinnamon, and Gordi, an amiable Siberian cat, who hails from Helsinki, but always visits when he is in the states. My friend Biffy, has great affection for my sister Otie, and makes the most refined gentlecat caller. Yes, my days are happy and full. I enjoy my life with Alison, Ditzy, Otie and Ruth. There are many windowsills, which are just perfect for bird-watching. Did I tell you I a m a member of the Audubon Society? Our sing-alongs are great fun, and Otie and I recently joined the Gilbert and Sullivan Society, and even attend meetings of this venerable society at Steinway Hall in Manhattan. Currently, I am writing my memoirs, which I find most enjoyable. I have made many friends on the web, and enjoy exchanging electronice messages with kindred spirits. Quite a good life for a cat of humble origins, if you ask me..
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