Try as I might, there are
librarian stereotypes that I cannot escape. I have thick glasses, I'm an introvert, I own several cardigans and I am, above all else, a cat lady. At one time in my life, I found myself responsible for five cats at once. I currently own two - one wayward cat was reclaimed by his owner (after having wandered, somehow, to my house from across the river) and two passed away.
Luckily, I am not the only cat owner at the library, and I can get my multiple-kitty fix anytime.
Becoming a cat lady (or lord) can creep up on you. You start with one, adopt another because she might be lonely, then you spy a stray in your neighborhood, or a friend of a friend can no longer take care of some poor, defenseless elderly cat, and can’t you please take him in? This is how
Bob Tarte, author of
Kitty Cornered, found his house filled with six cats of wildly differing personalities (this is after he and his wife took in a multitude of ducks, parrots, chickens and rabbits).
In the beginning, the Tarte household had only two cats - Moobie, an aging white cat, and Agnes, a black cat who enjoys tripping people as they navigate the stairs. They’re soon joined by Lucy, Maynard, Tina and - eventually - Frannie. Each cat comes with his or her own baggage. From Lucy’s disdain for litter boxes, to Maynard’s (originally Maybel) constant wailing and Frannie’s insistence on being petted while she eats. Anyone who has owned a cat can sympathize not just with Tarte’s struggles to make each cat feel at home, but also with his strong desire to do so, even at great financial and mental costs.
What makes this book so entertaining and heartwarming is Tarte’s earnestness to earn each cat’s affection. The most difficult cat to win over, Frannie, who Tarte and his wife caught only fleeting glimpses of at first - eventually comes around, as much as a cat can. Each chapter tells the story of how each cat came to join the household, and the troubles and travails entailed. There are many laugh-out-loud moments in the book, such as Moobie’s adaptation to wearing an
Elizabethan collar (or, as Tarte’s wife calls it, “the funnel of happiness”) and some poignant ones as well. Throughout, Tarte narrates with self-deprecating humor, mixing his own anxieties with those of (and for) his animals. The lengths to which he goes to for his cats - and his deep love for them - were immediately familiar to me. How many other pet owners have anxiously checked litter boxes and water bowl levels when a pet is ill? Or wonder if a momentary limp or prolonged scratching means something more dire than what it appears to be?
As with any book about a beloved pet written lately, the end of the book is usually dedicated to the inevitable decline in the pet’s health, the excruciating decisions that must be made and the reflection on the aftermath of loss. Being as soft-hearted as I am, I have avoided such books because I simply can’t bear to read about the death of a pet, or even about the tragic circumstances the pet was rescued from. No
Dewey: The Small-Town Library Cat or
Homer’s Odyssey for me, thank you. So I was hesitant to pick up
Kitty Cornered, for fear of a chapter ominously titled “Borrowed Time” or “The Big Meadow.” Happily, there is no such sadness in Tarte’s book. While two of the cats have close calls, we’re left with an image of a warm and chaotic household where cats outnumber humans, and happily so.
You can see
photos of Tarte's cats on his website, and browse
a collection of photos of C-SPL staff cats, too!
