The feline of my pet menagerie (who deep down believes he IS a dog ) is named Numa Pompilius, (Numa for short and Numa-kitty during a good purring rub down session), after the second of the seven roman kings appointed after Romulus died. For more information, checkout this link http://ancienthistory.about.com/library/weekly/aa052599.htm I can tell you the life of Numa the king is shrouded by hearsay and legend, but one thing many accounts agree on is his hand in establishing the lunar calendar and the basic foundations of priesthood. I also found an interesting blurb on how the name embodied the male counterpart of Ma-Nu, a goddess of creation referenced in some of the oldest Indo-European traditions.
My Numa is quirky. He has three favorite past times. This blog is devoted to one of them. He has a thing about straws... in fact, he steals them. If you come into my home with a fast food cup and it holds a straw, kiss it good-bye. Within minutes of the initial door inspection, Numa will have turned his head completely sideways (eyes now vertically stacked! ), clamped onto the straw, and dragged it out of its traveling vessel. He then skulks off with it and it reappears several days later in his food bowl, war-torn, beaten and nearly starved. Pathetically mangled and sad looking, the straw never stood a chance against his 16 lbs frame. His reach is inches over the straw, even on a good day, and his mind for strategy is unsurpassed in our dwelling. Blow for blow, the match was doomed from the start, with the straw coming out as underdog every time. Little did I know, he started training for these missions when he was just a young kitten. In his early years he would "fetch", (yes fetch!?), straws if you threw them around the room. Back and forth, back and forth, just like a dog. I remember one night, when I had two friends visiting, he was caught in a particularly strong straw fixation. At one point during our story swapping, he reared up on his hind legs in the middle of the living room, and batted the straw into the center of our trio. Honestly, if I had not been there to see it, I might not have believed it myself. My friends just stared . I explained (nervous giggle ) that he had this weird thing about straws (nervous giggle again ). As I spoke, they sat wide-eyed and slack-jawed just staring at the straw volleying kitten, who had come to a very calm seated position at the edge of our circle, licking his paw clean of any straw fragments after the thrill of battle. And so the legend of my Numa and his straws had begun.
They are asleep now. No staring at me for a nuzzle, rub, with those judging sad eyes that scream, "I have gone too long without attention" of some type. No doggie-dane obstacle course to run if I decide on a bathroom break or need a drink of water to quench my thirst. Just the quiet and dark of the room, with the soft sounds of the cat snoring just outside the monitor light, but close enough that I can hear the bi-tonal breathing as clear as the clicking of the keys at my finger tips. Tomorrow we will start all over again. The crack of dawn kitty massage and hair kneading with full frontal purring for that hint of relaxation. The second assault is executed by the danes for that early morning express pee break, initiated just for me immediately after my husband leaves for work, followed by the midmorning leisurely lawn sniff lasting a good 20 minutes, exhausting any hope of just a 'skoatch' more shut-eye before my senses have taken me to full throttle for the remainder of the day. The day proceeds with them dueling periodically like gladiators on their hind haunches, play growls, and nothing but legs flailing, followed closely by naps in the sun to re-juv for the next battle. They are what fill my summer days with laughter and awe. The three of them; their energy, their schedule, and their love. They are my 'bebbies'.
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) is named Numa Pompilius, (Numa for short and Numa-kitty during a good purring rub down session), after the second of the seven roman kings appointed after Romulus died. For more information, checkout this link http://ancienthistory.about.com/library/weekly/aa052599.htm I can tell you the life of Numa the king is shrouded by hearsay and legend, but one thing many accounts agree on is his hand in establishing the lunar calendar and the basic foundations of priesthood. I also found an interesting blurb on how the name embodied the male counterpart of Ma-Nu, a goddess of creation referenced in some of the oldest Indo-European traditions. 
), clamped onto the straw, and dragged it out of its traveling vessel. 
He then skulks off with it and it reappears several days later in his food bowl, war-torn, beaten and nearly starved. Pathetically mangled and sad looking, 
the straw never stood a chance against his 16 lbs frame. His reach is inches over the straw, even on a good day, and his mind for strategy is unsurpassed in our dwelling. Blow for blow, the match was doomed from the start, with the straw coming out as underdog every time. 
Little did I know, he started training for these missions when he was just a young kitten. In his early years he would "fetch", (yes fetch!?), straws if you threw them around the room. Back and forth, back and forth, just like a dog. I remember one night, when I had two friends visiting, he was caught in a particularly strong straw fixation. At one point during our story swapping, he reared up on his hind legs in the middle of the living room, and batted the straw into the center of our trio. Honestly, if I had not been there to see it, I might not have believed it myself. My friends just stared
. I explained (nervous giggle 
) that he had this weird thing about straws (nervous giggle again 
just staring at the straw volleying kitten, who had come to a very calm seated position at the edge of our circle, licking his paw clean of any straw fragments after the thrill of battle. And so the legend of my Numa and his straws had begun. 
The day proceeds with them dueling periodically like gladiators on their hind haunches, play growls, and 
nothing but legs flailing, followed closely by naps in the sun to re-juv for the next battle. They are what fill my summer days with laughter and awe. The three of them; their energy, their schedule, and their love. They are my 'bebbies'. 
