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2002-11-21 - 6:37 a.m.

In a house ruled by dogs, Mavis is the underdog.

My dogs are not keen hunters (Blue is a sheep dog; Emma is too lazy for words), so when I moved to the wilderness I wanted a varmint killer. I didn't relish the idea of mice, but it was the slithering kind of varmint I wanted killed! I have an irrational and nearly paralyzing fear of snakes. The girls and I needed a cat.

The first kitten to live with us disappeared after three months, so I went searching for a replacement. A co-worker offered up one of her many semi-wild cats. Mavis (named after he moved in with us), with his ringed tail and raccoon-like markings, was the most distinctive of the many cats roaming the lady's property and buildings. He was a young, full-grown cat, accustomed to living outdoors, and could handle the task of mouse and snake genocide.

Although a tom, I named him Mavis in the mistaken belief he was a female. The day I took her in to be spay, the vet assured me the cat was a male, providing a graphic description of cat anatomy using Mavis as the blow-up kitty. The cat knew his name, so I didn't change it. And, besides, he'd been with the dogs long enough by then he thought he was a female dog. Worrying about his name seemed trivial.

Having spent the first several months of his life outside and not treated as a pet, he wasn't much of a people cat for the first year he lived with us. He and Emma, however, had struck up a close friendship; they would curl up and nap, and Emma would sometimes take him by the neck and drag him along with her. Blue considered it all nonsense!

Mavis eventually decided people were amusing and would recline under the spirea surrounding the front porch observing the strange people shenanigans. Over time he's become an affectionate little under-feet fellow, demanding his share of attention and freely giving his kneading-dough love. He's still confined to the garage at night and during the cold winters, but he's gained limited access to the house and has come to expect his share of lap time on the inside. His favorite form of entertainment is to join me on the couch for an evening of television, draping himself on my head, his legs and paws covering my face so I can't see the screen. He shares the passenger seat with Emma on trips to the vet, and he walks with me around the lake, his regal tail royally saluting the sky!

One evening I heard loud yelps and odd barks in the front yard. Mavis was playing tag with a baby fox. When I called, he came to the front door, the fox following along with him.

In the past several years he's had one good shrew season, has deposited a salamander on the front welcoming mat where I stepped on it and managed to bring down a squirrel and several downy woodpeckers. He hasn't acquired a taste for mice. He's afraid of snakes!

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