In some ways Blondie was to me what Hobbs was for Calvin. Only my tiger was alive. Those who hate cats don't know how cool cats really are. Just like dogs, cats are quite different from one another. I was a latchkey kid before the term was invented, and Blondie was my companion. She sought me out and liked to be stroked by her friend. Or she might feel the necessity of grooming me with her rough and tireless tongue.
This episode begins with my bachelor uncle Walter. His sisters (my mother and aunties) were convinced that he would remain a bachelor all his life, but he surprised everyone and proposed to Mary Smiley. Yes, that was her name, and it seemed to be descriptively appropriate for her. She was a little older than he, and for several reasons, theirs was the wedding of the year for this family.
The cat that ate the wedding cake
Every now and then, we like to feature a guest blogger here at South Bay Pets.
So here's Rollin Keller, my former (now retired through still guest preaching and busier than ever) pastor from Grace Orthodox Presbyterian Church, who tells some stories of his beloved childhood cat, Blondie, on his newly launched personal blog Old Guys Rule.
I pretty much have drafted him into duty here, but he was a very good sport about it all.
I was well aware of Rollin's wonderful sense of humor, his love of kids and cats, and, of course, his strengths as a pastor.
But his blog makes it evident that he's a warm and talented writer and storyteller as well. Maybe not a surprise. Rollin recalls how he and his wife, Barbara, loved listening to master storyteller Jean Shepherd (of "A Christmas Story" movie fame) on New York radio years ago when Rollin was pastoring a church on the east coast.
I think you'll catch a little of that same flavor in Rollin's tale of how Blondie ate his uncle's wedding cake, reprinted here with his permission. Enjoy:
Blondie strikes again
Everyone made a big fuss over it. Everyone wanted to have a part in it. Since grandpa Saumert was a professional baker, he was asked to make the cake. Those were post-depression days, and our stove was the only one in the family that would accommodate the large pans needed for the lower levels of the cake. Consequently grandpa did the baking at our house.
A couple days before the wedding our home was filled with the lovely odors of cake baking. Grandpa carefully laid out the layers on our dining room table to cool overnight. Newsprint contained sanitary ink and so were spread over the cake layers.
Well, it turns out that although newsprint may discourage germs and vermin, it was not enough to discourage Blondie. She was a house cat, and she did not sleep in my bed every night. This night the attractive smell of wedding cake cooling in the night was too much for her to ignore. In the morning it was discovered that she had tasted each of the layers, and for good measure was found comfortably curled up on one of them.
My parents went berserk. The cat was banished, but the damage had been done. And tonight was the wedding! Dad took the assignment of picking up grandpa and explaining the tragedy to him so he could plan a repair--and calm down a bit before he arrived.
Grandpa was an emotional artist, and there was some fear of his reaction. But first of all, he was a professional. He rose to the occasion and immediately mixed a large batch of marzipan. He deftly filled the bitten holes in each layer, fitted the cake together, and viola! We saw nothing but a beautiful wedding cake.
Mom and I made a few knowing remarks about the delicious cake at the reception, but it was a closely guarded family secret for many years. I don't know if my aunt Mary and uncle Walt ever knew about this. If any guests were allergic to cats, it was not evident by the voracious consumption of this pastry.
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About the Bloggers
Daily Breeze reporter Donna Littlejohn has shared her homes with a succession of wonderful, funny, and occasionally difficult canines -- Muffin, Fritz, Ellie, Mercy, Pilgrim and now Cowboy, an Australian shepherd-border collie, and Tess, a border collie. From strong-willed terriers to weirdly obsessed Australian shepherds, they've invaded her world with boundless energy, wet noses, muddy paws and soggy tennis balls. But they've really brought so much more than that -- like laughter and joy, some unexpected life lessons, and more than a few tears along the way.
E-mail Donna at donna.littlejohn@dailybreeze.com.
Josh Grossberg grew up with the usual array of animals: goldfish, dogs, hamsters, parakeets and turtles. He now owns the loudest dog in the South Bay(Video: Rocket the Dog) and is the least popular person on his block. He spends his free time in dog parks, pet shops and always has an extra plastic bag in his pocket just in case. He also has a cat.
E-mail Josh at josh.grossberg@dailybreeze.com.
I can relate to this story. My daughter took a cake decorating class and was elected chief cake baker and decorator for the family. She also had a German Shorthair Pointer. One of my coworkers was getting married and we were going to have a breaktime shower for her. The half sheet cake was cooling on the counter, the Shorthair passed through the kitchen and exited with a piece of cake. It was 10PM. We decided to make the best of it. We trimmed the corner, frosted and decorated the oddly shaped cake and I took it to work. I told the truth about what happened but no one believed me. Somewhere I had heard that if you tell the truth like a lie, it won't be believed. Now I know that is true.
I loved this story. Especially, the visual of Blondie curled up on one of the cake layers!
Sounds like my dogs. It was my birthday. Hubby made a 13 x 9 cake from a mix. He put it on the washer to cool. We went out to dinner. Came back and our 28 pound shepherd/whippet mix greeted us at the door. She looked awful bloated. With good reason. My cake was gone. All that was left was a few small chunks, which were still being consumed by our Toy Fox Terrier. The Toy Fox got sick later. The shepherd/whippet had a large round belly, and no appetite, for about a week.