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Please allow me to introduce myself - I'm a cat of wealth
and taste. Well, that's not really true. I am as poor as the
"proverbial church-mouse", but I am a big fan of Mick
Jagger's, so I couldn't resist that intro.
Well, it did capture your attention, didn't it?
Okay - here goes..
My name is Otie Lebowitz, but you can call me Ishmael.
Hey, it worked for Herman Melville didn't it? If I do a good
job with this personal page, it might turn out to be more
popular than Moby Dick, and he was really, really big!
Well, for now, just call me Otie.
Now that I have your attention, shall I proceed with my
story? If you are still reading, I will take that as a
Where to begin? When you've lived as many lives as I have,
there are plenty of stories to tell. Like all cats, I have
nine lives, and believe you me, my career have been a
I come from humble origins. My mother was a feckless black
kitty who had numerous gentlecat callers. I do believe that
my putative father was a Merchant Marine on shore leave.
I'm not saying my mother was a "roundheels", but she always
had lots of male admirers of the feline persuasion.
Because my mother was in a penurious state, she sent my
brother, Milo and myself off to the clinic of a kindly vet,
who made it his mission to find us adoptive homes, and the
sooner the better. Although he was a kind boniface, he had
many cats in residence at his hostel, which was a half-way
house for homeless kitties such as ourselves.
Milo and I were determined to get adopted, preferably
together. So we practiced all the ploys that are very
effective in the seduction of future human mothers-to-be.
First we practiced the time-honored art of "The Silent
Miaow", as so eloquently described in the writings of Paul
Gallico, the poet laureate of feline literature.
Since neither Milo nor I were ill-favoured kitties, we knew
we had a good chance of finding some "suckers", er I mean
adoptive parents, to take us home. We practiced headbonking,
perfected purring to a fine art, and did everything in our
power to make us irresistible. Now all we had to do was bide
our time and wait to be discovered by some hapless human.
Our wait was not long!
One day an amiable human, named Ruth, visited the clinic of
the kindly vet, because she had been told about a kitty who
needed a good home. Unfortunately for her, but fortunately
for us, it just wasn't a match. So crestfallen, Ruth was
leaving the vet's with an empty varikennel and sadness and
disappointment in her kind heart.
Not one to miss a golden opportunity, the good doctor rushed
after her, calling "Wait Ruth - how about kittens?"
Aha! That vet knew just what to do and he was determined to
get Milo and myself adopted. Sometimes he affectionately
referred to us as those "two feline freeloaders".
He scooped us up in his massive palms, and presented them to
our prospective adoptive mother, Ruth.
The poor woman fell head-over-heels in love with both of us.
Hey, we had prepared quite well for this, so she didn't
stand a ghost of a chance in going home without us.
She kept cuddling first one of us, then the other, totally
unable to make up her mind which one to take home with her.
We were really purring like feline outboard motors, and
gazing into her eyes with a look of longing, which was an
emotion that could not be denied. Luckily, Ruth was a Libra
and an indecisive one at that. The good doctor, was no
dummy, so he went in for the kill. "Ruth - take them both.
They are brother and sister. They eat together, sleep
together, play together. How could you have the heart to
separate them? His salesmanship worked. That guy could sell
ice to the Eskimos! In a flash, we found ourselves popped
into that formerly empty varikennel, and heading to our new
home and new life, at Chez Lebowitz, Ruth's humble abode.
We were happy at Chez Lebowitz right from the start.
Already in residence was a maternal tiger-striped tabbie
cat, named Alison. She took us under her maternal wing, and
made us feel wanted, safe, and secure in our new digs.
Milo eventually fell in love with Alison, but that's another
story. Milo and I were delighted with the many windowsills
at Chez Lebowitz, and had great fun watching the world go
by, and stuttering in frustration at elusive birds. Soon we
felt right at home, and enjoyed running around and chasing
each other, something we still do.
Soon Ruth adopted yet another kitty, which she named
"Ditzy", and believe me, that calico kitty really lived up
to her name! She and Milo soon became wrestling partners,
and inseparable pals. Ditzy loved to eat, and still does,
and she "bulked-up", so she could sumo wrestle with Milo.
I had fun playing with the furry mice Ruth supplied. But our
favorite toy was not a toy per se, but Ruth's sofa in the
living room. We found that sofa an ideal scratching post
(much more fun than those commercial ones she bought!), and
if Ruth ever wanted to donate it to Goodwill, they would pay
her money to keep it. So we had definitely made our mark at
Chez Lebowitz. Before Milo was neutered (which he refers to
as "that unfortunate operation), he enjoyed peeing on Ruth's
Hungarian down comforter, a relic from her palmier days,
before she became a pauper, thanks to the resident felines,
who ate her out of house and home!
Ah - life was good at Chez Lebowitz, and gets better all the
time. Our accommodations are humble, but comfortable. Milo
and I have congenial feline roommates, Ditzy and Alison.
Getting Ruth to cater to our every whim is a piece of cake.
She is putty in our capable paws, and take full advantage of
that favorable situation.
When Ruth got an iMac as a birthday present from her
brother, she decided to write about what she knew best - the
kitties at Chez Lebowitz. Soon Alison, Ditzy, Milo and I all
had our own websites, and we attracted a cult following on
the net. Now we write our own stories, which Milo claims are
superior than anything Ruth has ever written, but don't tell
her he said that. We both believe that discretion truly is
the "better part of valour"!
I think by now that you have a good idea of our life and
times at Chez Lebowitz, that humble hostelry for rescued
kitties. Guess who rules here? Hint - it sure isn't Ruth!
Yes, things just couldn't get better for two formerly
homeless kitties. Milo and I just love it here. We have
great accommodations, a groaning board of every conceivable
variety of cat food, and a human who waits on us hand and
foot. We have a live-in webmistress, stage-mother and abject
slave, in Ruth. Life just doesn't get any better than this,
is you ask me.