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the story of Not JoJo, the kitty under our stairs

February 10, 2012

This is not Not JoJo. So I guess, it could in fact be JoJo. But it's mostly just a stock photo of a cat from

There’s a kitty under our stairs.  We used to call him JoJo because one of our neighbors was putting up flyers about their lost black and white cat named JoJo and we thought the cat under our stairs was his, but it was just another black and white cat.  So now we call him Not JoJo.  I try to get close to him but he always darts away.  I want to pet him, maybe give him treats, but he is not interested in human interaction.  Sometimes he poops on our steps.

Not JoJo is not cute.  He’s got long hair that looks matted in spots.  It looks like if he got a bath, about four pounds of dust and twigs would wash out of his fur.  His markings are strange.  And he always looks hyper-alert, with big spooked eyes.  I don’t know who he belongs to, what his name is, or if he is in fact a boy.

I decided this mystery cat needed a backstory.  So I came up with one:

Sir Elliot Walsingham was born of cat royalty.  His mother, a Chartreux named Dinah (after the cat in Alice in Wonderland), won the 2009 Desert Cats show at El Zaribah Shrine Auditorium in Phoenix.  His father, a purebred tabby Manx named Prince Felix, was on the cover of Cat Fancy in 2008.  He also appeared, briefly, on the bag of a discontinued organic cat food.  Dinah and Felix were never supposed to meet, but their forbidden and doomed romance resulted in a litter of kittens that Dinah’s owners found hideous and distasteful for their mixed bloodlines.

The six kittens were advertised on Craigslist for $20 “to a good home,” but they would have been gladly surrendered to any questionable gypsy* who wanted one.  Dinah’s reputation was ruined and her hopes of competing at the upcoming national show were dashed.  One by one the kittens were adopted, until only baby Elliot remained (though back then he was known as “Mutt #4”).  Finally, an elderly woman who lived next door, saw Elliot sitting sadly in the kitchen window and asked if he needed a home.

Elliot and the old lady had a happy life.  He kept her lap warm and she enjoyed the company.  Each morning, she’d have a bowl of plain Cheerios and once the cereal was gone, she’d put her bowl on the floor for Elliot to finish off the milk.  They watched the daytime talk shows and the evening news together, and the old lady’s favorite show, Keeping Up with the Kardashians.  After a few months, as old ladies do, she passed away.  Her son came from California to clean out her house and was surprised to find a hungry, crying kitten in his mom’s favorite chair.  He wondered why his mother never told him about the cat, but seeing the blue collar with the heart shaped tag that said “Sir Elliot Walsingham,” and the abundance of feather toys on the floor, he knew the kitten must have been loved.

Elliot was flown back to California with the old lady’s son, and moved in with his family.  The kids were rough with him, and the family dog nipped at him.  No one wanted him in their laps, and no one put cereal milk down for him.  He missed Khloe and Kourtney and The View.  He decided to run away, to find another old lady who would love him.  But after wandering the streets, dodging cars, looking for shelter in the rain, and eating whatever bugs and lizards he could find, he settled in a little neighborhood where he found a nice staircase to live under and poop on.

I hope someday he’ll let me near him.

*Gypsies don’t actually like cats. Wikipedia says that for gypsies, “Some animals are also considered impure, for instance cats because they lick themselves.”  I think Borat is right about gypsies.

2 Comments leave one →
  1. pussincahoots permalink
    February 10, 2012 11:47 pm

    Great backstory. Hope you find out the real one someday.

  2. February 13, 2012 9:10 pm

    FUN! I give it: ★★★★★

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