One note about Russell's name. Jamie said my father, Russell, was the sweetest man Jamie ever knew. Notice that Jamie didn't say that HIS daddy, moi, was the sweetest man he ever knew. Anyway, Jamie said that his cat was the sweetest cat he ever knew, so he named him Russell, after my father.
Okay, so here's Russell the cat's story, in his own words, up close and personal.
Human? Almost Human? More than Human? Russell, the Cool Black Cat
My name is Russell. My owner, Jamie, named me after his grandfather, because, Jamie said, Grandad was the sweetest man he ever knew, and I’m the sweetest cat Jamie ever knew.
I’m jet black, with some white whisps. But for the white, Bob’s friend, Joe Glaz, would not cross my path.
Now that Jamie lives in San Francisco, Bob takes care of me. Bob tries not to cross me. I rarely bite or scratch people, but will when aggravated by childish-acting Homo Sapiens.
I LOVE being stroked and touched. LOVE having my ears rubbed firmly. BRIDLE when officious inter-meddling humanoids hold my head between their palms and massage my chinny-chin-chin, and what I consider the most vulnerable part of my beautiful, sleek body--that’s right, my throat.
Bob tells humans I’m manly, aggressive, a hunter, and love to provoke. But, he adds, I’m feminine, graceful, luxurious, and regal. A King and a Queen, all wrapped in one flesh, Bob says. I don’t know about any of that. I’m just me, Russell, the Cool Cat.
I guess I am squeaky-voiced, and sultry-sounding. I like to think of myself as slovenly, sleek, sardonic and sweet. And I’m definitely stand-offish, yet slavish.
A bundle of contradictions, you humanoids might say. But I think you’d all agree, that I, Russell, AM. Which of us Cool Cats, AIN’T?!
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My name is Russell. My owner, Jamie, named me after his grandfather, because, Jamie said, Grandad was the sweetest man he ever knew, and I’m the sweetest cat Jamie ever knew.
I’m jet black, with some white whisps. But for the white, Bob’s friend, Joe Glaz, would not cross my path.
Now that Jamie lives in San Francisco, Bob takes care of me. Bob tries not to cross me. I rarely bite or scratch people, but will when aggravated by childish-acting Homo Sapiens.
I LOVE being stroked and touched. LOVE having my ears rubbed firmly. BRIDLE when officious inter-meddling humanoids hold my head between their palms and massage my chinny-chin-chin, and what I consider the most vulnerable part of my beautiful, sleek body--that’s right, my throat.
Bob tells humans I’m manly, aggressive, a hunter, and love to provoke. But, he adds, I’m feminine, graceful, luxurious, and regal. A King and a Queen, all wrapped in one flesh, Bob says. I don’t know about any of that. I’m just me, Russell, the Cool Cat.
I guess I am squeaky-voiced, and sultry-sounding. I like to think of myself as slovenly, sleek, sardonic and sweet. And I’m definitely stand-offish, yet slavish.
A bundle of contradictions, you humanoids might say. But I think you’d all agree, that I, Russell, AM. Which of us Cool Cats, AIN’T?!
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