ellie (lyn)

My parent’s cat, Gracie, died last February.  While no one else was a big fan of this aloof Abyssinia, my parents adored her.  They were particularly in awe of her intelligence, beauty, and agility, and missed her terribly.

A few months ago, my sister Jean found them a replacement.  A six-month old grey cat, with the markings of a Russian Blue.  She arrived with the name Ellie, and it stuck.

Jim, Jean’s husband, nicknamed her Knock-Off, because she looks like a Russian Blue but isn’t.  And while Ellie is very pretty, she does not share Gracie’s gracefulness, or for that matter, her intelligence.  On the positive side, Ellie is much friendlier than Gracie ever was.  She doesn’t run away when approached, and even likes to be held.  But she has a dark side.

Sally is sitting on the sofa with Ellie nestled up against her.  Sally is petting her; the cat seems happy.  Her purring confirms this.  Suddenly, Ellie rears up on her back legs, and scratches Sally.   Cuts through the skin, even.  Last time I was here Ellie did something similar to me.  But she didn’t scratch me.  No, this sweet cat instead bit my face.  Totally unprovoked.

If Gracie’s mantra was, “She’s so smart,” Ellie’s has become, “She’s only playing.”  My parents must know that Ellie’s behavior is a little strange, but they excuse it by suggesting she likes to play.

Aside from her episodes of surprise biting and scratching, Ellie is a docile cat.  She will flop in your arms.  She will nestle beside you.  She will sleep in your bed. But she is a little crazy.

Around 9:30 every night Ellie will take off.  For no apparent reason, she’ll zoom from room to room on a wild chase to nowhere.  She will leap from sofa to chair to fireplace mantle (sometimes falling in the process).  The other night she knocked over a lamp, breaking the bulb, while trying to catch a fly.  Alexander warns, “don’t look into her eyes.”  Normally this is not a problem, but when she’s in her crazy state, you don’t want to be caught  staring at her.

Tonight Sally, Alexander and I are having dinner at Cynthia and Elizabeth’s house.  Before leaving, Alexander wants to move Ellie from the sunroom to the inside house so she lifts her up.  Normally Ellie wouldn’t care.  Tonight she does.  She growls in a loud, menacing voice we’ve not heard before.   She can be scary.

But my parents love this playful cat.  So we will accept her crazy, manic ways.