Taking a Gamble on Poker

About This Author

I'm Donna and I'd like to welcome you to my Inkspot! Here you can browse and read my stories. Most of my writing is about my family and friends, and how they helped me through two spinal cord surgeries twenty-three years ago. Surviving tough times can make you appreciate not only the good times but all the wonderful people in your life every day, as well. It is with this deep sense of love, appreciation and gratitude that I write my stories. I hope that you enjoy them, and if so, you'll drop me a note and let me know! Have a wonderful day!

Taking a Gamble on Poker

Taking a Gamble on Poker

As a result of the ad I had placed in the newspaper, when Lucky became a soldier of fortune for five long days, I had a call from someone who thought she had found Lucky. Lucky had returned to us by then, but Susan and I kept in touch because the cat she had found had become dreadfully afraid of humans, and she was trying to re-domesticate the poor, frightened little creature.

There was a period of about two months when we had lost contact with each other, but then, I got another call from my new-found friend. She had found another stray cat on her property. This time it was a kitten, about six months old, and it was VERY friendly, always purring whenever anyone came nearby. However, Susan couldn't keep the cat, even though she had had it tested and immunized, and spayed. The kitten would go to a shelter and face an uncertain future. Susan had thought of me, and asked if I would like to take it.

OF COURSE I WOULD!! But, it wasn't just up to me. I had to get my husband, Walter, my son, Jeff, and of course, Lucky to agree. This wasn't going to be easy. Never before had I attempted something so far out of reach. But, I like the challenge of a good debate. And this was the ultimate challenge--changing three male votes to agree with mine. I certainly had my work cut out for me.

First, I had to catch them off-guard-- and alone. Kind of a divide-and-conquer approach. First, Walter: I started off with the "Lucky needs a companion" theory, telling Walter that Lucky was going back into his hermit-like habits, after a brief and sporadic display of wanting to be near us after his failed mission of independence during the midst of a winter storm. This was theory was shot down right away with, "You KNOW Lucky doesn't like other cats. "

"That's because he doesn't really KNOW any other cats. He didn't like Bandit because they were both male cats. This kitten is a female and would give Lucky some companionship," I answered, repeating all the reasons I had come up with earlier, to ward off this “male resistance" that I knew I would be facing.

Jeff, naturally named the same reasons as Walter had, when I approached him about it. Now, was the time to get everyone together, talk openly about our ideas, and finally, to agree with me.

I had several names all picked out: Purrrl, CAThrine, K.C. All of these very suitable were voted down immediately by, well, you know.

When we brought Poker home, Lucky woke up from his mid-summer's mid-afternoon sleep because of all the commotion in the family room. He came slowly down, his eyes moving everywhere, not knowing what to expect. Then his eyes glanced towards Poker. He stopped still in his tracks. His tail puffed. He stood perfectly still, unsure of the reason for this interloper's presence in HIS house.

Poker stuck her head out of the carrier, looking all around, trembling with nervousness, but still purring. Lucky came over for a closer look and hissed his welcome. That's the best he could do under the circumstances.

"Ya see, Mom? Lucky hates Poker," Jeff said. "Just like we said he would."

"Oh, that's just because he's not used to having another cat around." I dismissed his triumphant pronouncement as typical male rush-to-judgment. “Give them some time to get used to each other. They'll be great friends before you know it. Lucky just needs someone to keep him company--you know, they'll play together nicely someday."

These words were barely out of my mouth when Lucky hissed again at Poker and took the first, of what would become many, swipes at her. Poker, unassertive by nature, ducked back into the safety of the cardboard carrier. Jeff picked up Lucky to calm him down. Poker took advantage of the situation, and ran down the stairs to the basement, and spent a few hours in isolation and meditation, wondering, I surmised, about how to win over Lucky, determined to be his best new friend.

And so days passed, and the days turned into weeks, the weeks into months. It seemed as though the best Poker could hope for in her quest to make Lucky friendly would be continual battles interspersed with short, periodic moments of minimal toleration.

Poker learned this the hard way. She found out, through trial-and-error, that just because she wanted to play, didn't mean that Lucky wanted to. This took quite a while to sink in; first and foremost Poker is a playful kitten.

There was the time when Lucky was sound asleep on Jeff's bed. Poker jumped on to the bed, walked over to Lucky, and with no malice aforethought, pushed on his belly with her paw. Lucky, startled out of a deep mid-morning sleep, opened his eyes, saw Poker, and quickly got up. Then, as judge, jury and executioner, he meted out his punishment on his alleged assailant. Swiftly, before Poker could defend herself, he sat up and swiped at her with both front paws. Poker backed up and ran. Lucky was in hot pursuit and chased her all the way to the basement. The thundering of paws could be heard throughout the house, growing faint only as they reached the far corners of the basement. Then the Thundering Herd could be heard as they made their way back upstairs, the noise gradually getting louder and louder.

Only this time, it was Poker in hot pursuit of Lucky.

Poker was learning to give as good as she got. She was learning from the master, after all. While we originally thought that Poker would bring some “life” to Lucky’s day, eventually Poker learned to sleep about 80% of her day away, just as Lucky did.

For most of the four years we have had Poker, she has always shied away from any open door leading to the Great Outdoors. “Shied away from” really doesn’t describe her reaction. If a door is opened, she doesn’t even go near it--she flees upstairs until she deems it safe to return. She has been a stray once in her life; she is determined not to let THAT happen again, by accident or by design.

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