From Brooklyn Babe to Tortie Reporter

Here's a photo from my old stomping grounds in Bay Ridge, NYC. And the view from Nina's litter box. That's the Verrazanno-Narrows bridge, which connects Brooklyn to Staten Island. I am pleased that NYC officials are taking measures to clean up the waterways, as this signage indicates.

Here’s a photo from my old stomping grounds in Bay Ridge, NYC. That’s the Verrazanno-Narrows bridge, which connects Brooklyn to Staten Island.
I am pleased that NYC officials are taking measures to clean up the waterways, as this signage indicates.


P1080300
March 6, 2013 was the 125th anniversary of my final biped day. It was a good run, beginning Nov. 29, 1832 in Germantown, Pennsylvania and ending in Boston this day in 1888. I managed to accomplish quite a bit in those 55 years. A few highlights include:

  • Writing an All-American novel. “Little Women” is still translated in scores of languages and remains a beloved favorite around the world.
  • Serving in the Union Army as a nurse.
  • Founding “The Concord Players,” an award-winning theater that‘s still thriving.
  • Publicizing the need for women’s suffrage.
  • Being the first women to register and cast a vote in Concord.
  • Shooing off the debt collectors by financially supporting my family.
  • Working as a station master for the Underground Railroad (I abhor slavery!!).
  • Housing a fugitive slave for weeks.
  • and finally, maintaining a lifelong crush on Henry David Thoreau.
  • I think I fared pretty well for a girl born more than 100 years before the Women’s Movement. But I’m glad to be back this time around because there are always so many things I want to do. They include:
    • Promoting equality for women
    • Preventing abuse of women (and all living things, essentially)
    • Providing clean, potable water to everyone
    • Sharing a little history on remarkable women
    • Controlling a developing crush on Matt Damon (he cofounded water.org!)
    • and finally, turning my lifelong crush on Henry David Thoreau into the real thing.

    I am confident these goals will be accomplished. In fact, since I started this blog two weeks ago, I see that HDT has been here and is even now following me on Twitter. (You can, too @louisamayalcatt.) Now, to just get him alone in that (love) shack of his.

    A little about my newest quadruped iteration. I’m a Brooklyn babe (Bay Ridge, to be exact) born July 26, 2010. Alcott aficionados, all two of you, will recognize my new date of birth as the 150th anniversary of my little sister Abigail May Alcatt’s birthday. She let me have the summer birthday this time around. Here’s a little fun fact you won’t find on Wikipedia, once May, as she liked to be called, married Ernest Nieriker of Switzerland, 15 years her junior, she changed her name to Abigail May Alcougar. Still in the cat family.

    Moving on.

    I didn't have a real home for my first 2 1/2 years.

    I didn’t have a real home for my first 2 1/2 years.

    Like my first time around, I moved a lot. But unlike my early days, my family was not running from bill collectors. (Yes, my dad Bronson may have had profound philosophies that many of you adhere by today, but trust me, Transcendentalism doesn’t pay the rent, or much else.)

    This cycle, I retained the  gorgeous green eyes and dark hair from before, but was separated from my family at a young age and became one of NYC’s homeless. This was devastating for someone who values family relationships. Eventually, some kind person noticed me on the streets and brought me to a local animal shelter. The shelter has a partnership with an animal hospital. So every few days, I’d be put in a cat carrier and displayed in the waiting room like a pair of Gianmarco Lorenzi kitten-heeled sandals, (OK, a pair of well-worn Hush Puppies) waiting for someone to fall in love with me and bring me home.

    I am pondering ideas for my next post.

    I am pondering ideas for my next post.

    Continuing from my March 6 post, you may want to read that first, it’s just below:

    I was adopted and hopeful things would work out. But it appears, that despite my desperate circumstances, I need to be the sole cat. I don’t like sharing my people. Plus, I am very selective about who I am going to spend my life with. Seeing as I wasn’t going to change my ways for anyone, (A stubborn trait that carried over from my 19th century days) I found myself back in a shelter. Not once, but twice!

    I’ll admit, I was becoming discouraged. But the third time’s a charm. There I was propped in the waiting area staring at all the pets and their people coming and going. No one catches my eye. Then along comes Nina, with her people WHDH – the cat lover, not the news station. I’ve seen the duo here before. They’ve looked into my carrier and discussed how cute I am. (I am.) Nina, knowing I’m originally from Germantown, had mentioned, in her native German, that she herself was once homeless, giving birth to adorable katzchen in a closet of a tony prep school. It happened to be WHDH’s office closet. What good luck was that? Between you and me, I think Nina schemed it. Everyone knows WHDH has a soft spot for Germans and katzen.

    WHDH brought everyone home and found perfect adoptivfamilien for all the junge katze. (One of them is living the highlife in LA now.) Meanwhile, Nina still needed to be placed, but she pretended she could live no place else but with WHDH. Nice act, Nina! You think you’re a real heißpunkt now just because your litter box has an awesome view of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. Well, guess what? I have an outstanding view of a classic poster of Ernie Banks from my litter box and he’s in the National Baseball Hall of Fame. So, there!

    I’m straying again. So, back at the cat hospital. I’m hanging out in my cage and see Nina and WHDH come in. WHDH begins chatting it up with the staff about my availability. They tell her that although I am a cat, I don’t like other cats, at least in my space. Nina has WHDH familiar with trait. WHDH considers all the people she knows who may need me. She comes up with some hot prospects. Not everyone pans out. In the end, it is decided that I will travel north to Boston and begin a new life with MAD, a displaced Cub’s fan with an unfortunate combination of initials.

    So far, things are working out quite well. It’s not exactly Orchard House, but it will do. He promises to scratch my neck and I promise to not hack my meals onto the rug. We’re getting into a rhythm. MAD is pretty good friends with my publicist. I knew she shared my agenda – look at the feeding dish she gave me for Valentine’s Day – but I couldn’t get her attention to help me promote it. I’d have started this blog myself but I have a hard time typing (I’m more of a pen-and-ink girl) and the mouse keeps running and hiding on me.

    I tried everything to get her to notice me from offering to help sort yarn (which she did not appreciate) to using her silk lampshades as a scratching pad (which she appreciated even less.) I mean, really. What was up with that? She sees the Cub’s paraphernalia and duck decoys all over the place and she thinks silk lampshades will tie it all together? Truly! Could you imagine if I waltzed into Henry’s (love) shack all aglow, exclaiming “Hello meine liebe, I brought silk lampshades to spruce up the place.”

    So, my publicist is not a quick hint picker-upper but she shares many of my principles and she can type. So, she and I paired up and that is how I went from Brooklyn to Blogger.


6 Responses to “From Brooklyn Babe to Tortie Reporter”

  1. onespoiledcat June 12, 2013 at 11:58 am #

    Love this story! 😉

    Pam

  2. A Rhythm Runs Through It June 28, 2013 at 2:18 pm #

    I simply adore you LMA! Your posts are always fresh and new, and that’s quite a feat for one with such an old soul (but you were always ahead of your time)! PAWS UP! Jamy 😉

    • louisamayalcatt June 30, 2013 at 1:43 pm #

      HI Jamy,

      Thanks for the comment. It really made our day! xo LMA

  3. Mary Strong-Spaid July 11, 2013 at 11:00 am #

    Your cat has quite a story!
    Won’t be long before she can type too.
    We have one “shelter” kitty also, but (so far) she has kept her prior life a secret.

  4. Mary Strong-Spaid July 11, 2013 at 11:02 am #

    Your cat has quite an interesting story!
    Won’t be long before she can type too…
    We adopted a shelter kitty too, but she has (so far) kept her past life a secret. 😉

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Perfect-The-Days

Poetry, Inspiration and a platform for Global Issues

Cafe Book Bean

Talk Books. Drink Coffee.

A DEVOTED LIFE

Practical Daily Devotions for the Real World

Open the Vox

Jester Wisely

sonofthemountains

Child of the human condition

Toast and Tea

Express Yourself in Beautifully Webbed Words

Disrupted Physician

The Physician Wellness Movement and Illegitimate Authority: The Need for Revolt and Reconstruction

%d bloggers like this: