On the drive home from book group last Saturday, Courtney told us how her cat, Atticus, is as dumb as a post. "He managed to get over the fence into the neighbor's yard yesterday," she said, "but he couldn't figure out how to get back. He just stood in the other yard and meowed. The gate was locked, so Andrew had to get out a ladder and climb over the fence and then hand Atticus to me." Atticus weighs twenty pounds, so this is no small feat.

"Then there's the cat doors," she continued. "We cut two cat doors so Atticus could access various parts of the house to get away from the dog, but the stupid cat can't figure out how they work. I keep shoving him through the hole at the top the stairs, but he just doesn't get it. When he wants downstairs, he stands in front of the hole and meows until I push him through again. He's stupid."

We laughed, of course, but this got me thinking about how much personality every animal has. I don't mean just intelligence (or, in Atticus' case, the lack thereof), but actual personality: individuality. I mean the little things animals do that set them apart from other animals. Silly things. Funny things. Stupid things. Smart things.

On Wednesday night, for example, Nemo climbed onto the garage roof. Again. He does this every couple of months. We're not sure how he gets onto the roof, but we do know that he has trouble getting down. He spends an hour or so lounging about, or lunging at birds and squirrels, and then when the fun is finished he meows piteously until somebody fetches him down. On Wednesday we ignored him for a long time. Eventually I went out to help, only to find him sitting in the oak tree next to the garage. I climbed onto a stool and patted the edge of the roof. "Come here," I said, and Nemo came: he walked along an oak limb, jumped to the roof, then walked across the workshop, potting shed, and garage to where I stood. He meowed. I grabbed him and carried him into the house.

That night, as we were preparing for bed, Kris set Redcat back on the dresser. Redcat is a stuffed wool cat that she purchased several years ago in Pendleton. It serves merely as room decoration, or did so until Nemo discovered it. It is now his plaything. In fact, as soon as he noticed that Redcat was not where he had left him, Nemo jumped from the nightstand to the dresser, took Redcat in his mouth, hopped to the floor, then leapt to the bed to return Redcat to his rightful spot. (Please note that Redcat is just as large as Nemo is.)

Redcat is not Nemo's only toy. He also has a dirty rag that he found outside. All summer, we've laughed while watching him carry the rag around the yard. Sometimes he plays with it. Sometimes he sleeps with it. Mostly, Nemo just carries the thing around. It's like a security blanket. Sometime in the past couple of weeks, Nemo carried his rag into the house. Now we find it in odd spots: on the kitchen table, under a chair, in the bathroom. It often turns up next to the catfood. Last night, Kris paused as she was climbing into bed. "What the...?" she said, pulling Nemo's rag from between the covers.

Nemo isn't our only cat with personality.

For whatever reason, Toto hates bananas. She's scared of them. She always has been. If I brandish an unpeeled banana in her direction, she runs in fright. If I peel the banana and chase her, she's even more frightened.

When Toto wants us out of bed — when we've slept to long or have forgotten to feed her — she bangs the pictures on the wall. She uses her paw to pull the frames away from the wall, and then lets go so that the picture goes pat pat pat. Or, if she's feeling really insistent, she sits on my chest (or Kris' chest), and gently paw paw paws my lip (with her claws slightly extended).

Simon has the least personality of all our cats, but even he has his moments. For one, he's very protective of our yard. He bullies any cat that enters the property. (Except for maybe Kristabel, the female from down the street.) He's even protective with dogs. I've told before how once, during book group, we watched in awe has he chased off the golden retriever from next door. That dog was frightened! Andrew once brought Augie over. Simon charged him, too.

I wonder if all animals exhibit individual personalities. Do chickens? Do hedgehogs? Do fish?

On this day at foldedspace.org

2004 — Ollie   My nephew, Michael, is surprisingly athletic.

2003 — Baudolino   In which my sub-conscious sings. In which football season is off to a fine start. In which Baudolino offers insights on truth.

2002 — You Know   For better or worse, here's a fragment I wrote a couple of weeks ago while running errands.