Hello kitty...

I am not a cat person.

When I say I am not a cat person, it doesn't mean that I hate cats. It means that I just don't particulary care for them. I am allergic to them, and that probably has something to do with my aversion to the fickle animal. My anti-feline attitude is not genetic and grandma is a great source of proof.

Grandma has picked up a couple strays. They showed up months ago and they haven't left yet. I told her that if she would stop feeding them prime items like steak reminants they might leave, but since grandpa won't eat anything - the leftovers are plenty and no cat within 50 feet of the house goes hungry.

Because the cat took up residence it has become a pet of sorts. Dad started calling the cat Skank because it was pretty rough looking when it arrived on the doorstep, mewing and hungry. The name stuck. On a visit to grandma's I heard her talking to the cat.

"Skanks get back," she had added an 'S' to the end as she shooed the nasty cat away from the door so she could put down a plate loaded with said yummy delights.

"What did you call that cat?" I asked, no way in hell did I hear her right.

"Skanks," she said.

My sweet little grandma was using street slang.

"Uh, grandma, do you know that Skank is a slang word?" I knew the answer, but had to ask anyway.

"No," she was shocked. "Your dad named her," she shook her head.

I get home for Christmas and the cat is now being called Skinks. That name was not as offensive, and still close to the original.

Skinks likes to sharpen his nails on the screen door, rub on legs and sneak into the warm house. The cat has also marked territory on the front step, in fact mom's dog hates the cat. Scared to death of it. One swipe at Toby's nose and old Skinks had the pooch reluctant to climb the steps without human protection, ever. He has established dominance. Skinks rules, everyone else drools.

He established more of a reputation right before Christmas. When he ruined grandpa's chances of a tasty donut for breakfast.

When grandma and grandpa got back from a quick trip to town grandpa swore he smelled cat poop. Grandma didn't see any and chalked it up to grandpa's finicky quirks as of late. She was in a rush to get out the door again, so she put her grocery sacks on the floor in front of the stove and they were on their way again, when they got back they had a surprise.

It was a big pile of cat crap and a package of cat nibbled donuts. The cat didn't eat an entire one, instead he nibbled on all four.

“Skinks had been in the house,” she said. “He nibbled on this one, and then this one. I just couldn’t believe it. He must have gotten in and out without me even noticing.”

The pile Skinks left was around the corner. Without missing a beat grandpa just shook his head.

“Told you I smelled cat crap."