Tyrades! by Danny Tyree

“Rescue me/ Ah, take me in your arms…” – as performed by Fontella Bass.

As luck would have it, exactly two months after seven-year-old Moggie cat had to be euthanized (incurable tick-borne cytauxzoonosis), the Tyree family discovered three flea-ridden, emaciated kittens outside the church building.

A teenage girl adopted the largest one. My family rescued the other two, probably because we misheard a hymn as “There Is Power in the Big Cute Eyes.”

(By the way, I guess you trivia buffs know there is no mention of domesticated cats in the entire Bible. Too bad we don’t get to read about Tiger telling Noah, “I wanna go out. I wanna come in. Dry me off. I wanna go out…”)

Based on their personalities, we eventually named the kittens Dora the Explorer and Tsunami. Humans should be grateful to be named for celebrities or dead relatives, instead of their personalities. (“Do you have a reservation for Pompous Jackass Smith?”)

It brought a lump to my throat to tell the girls, “This is your forever home. Unless the cost of vaccines, de-worming and spaying goes up again; then our forever home will be a van down by the river.”

Our senior cats Porky and Cindy (who showed up outside the church building 10 years ago) have forgotten their roots and hiss at the young interlopers. They try hard to maintain their relevance and superiority. I am not making this up: I had the word “napping” in my notes and when Cindy walked across the keyboard, she left a line of Z’s! (That’s usually the sort of catty comment I get from my readers!)

Some people would label me a sucker for taking on the responsibility of two more mouths to feed, but I’m accustomed to navigating the four different perspectives regarding felines.

Some people love cats and have lots of them. Some people hate cats. Some people love cats but can’t keep any because of allergies or landlord restrictions. And the rest of the people can’t concentrate long enough to form an opinion because of the stabbing pain from a kitten “rappelling” up their bare leg!!!

At first, it’s fascinating to watch kittens instinctively covering up after doing their “business.” (“Kittens: doing the jobs that Pet Rocks just won’t do.”) But after you reach a certain age, you start juggling the numbers and thinking, “If they live to be 20, I wonder if they’ll someday be covering ME up. Cremation or kittie litter, that is the question.”)

Kittens are skilled at finding a place in your heart. Apparently it’s easier than finding what’s right under their nose. (“There! Eat the gourmet food. No, it’s right in front of you! No, Fancy Feast doesn’t make rubber bands. And stop eating that bug! Are you on Bill Gates’s mailing list or something?”)

Yes, kittens (and pets in general) ask for so little. Granted, they ask for it repeatedly and in an annoying manner and at the most inopportune times. (“Okay, here’s another tummy rub. Now, please let me use my EpiPen, okay?”)

And they give so much. And hopefully it’s not still in its death throes when they give it to you.

I’ll write more about Dora and Tsu someday. By then they’ll be heavy enough for a proper dose of insect treatment. I’ve had it up to here with “We shall come rejoicing/Bringing in the fleas.”

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Copyright 2025 Danny Tyree, distributed by Cagle Cartoons newspaper syndicate.

Danny Tyree welcomes email responses at [email protected] and visits to his Facebook fan page “Tyree’s Tyrades.”