Ethan T. Katt, who is by any definition a beauty (see above) is also all over the map when it comes to whom he crushes on. He has spent years trying to seduce Betty the Prayer Kitten (The Blog Mascot), has long tried to corral Elspeth, much less gallantly (don't feel too bad for her; she heath the tar out of him when he doesn't take a hint.)
But his walks on the wild side--like with the late, lamented, Jake, the dog of two of our good friends. Through the door they would stare at each other, eyes locked in mutual fascination and admiration. Now, so too with Popplethwaite, the tomcat outside--Ethan is, quite simply, absolutely unpredictable in whom he will fall for.
Interestingly, it ain't us--he is the only one of our cats who comes close to fitting the stereotype of the aloof, distant cat. Not quite, though; he's more like Lord Grantham with Bates--polite, superior, but a tinge of affection withal.
Just as well, I suppose. All his loves are foredoomed….
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Ah, how well I recollect the doomed (and therefore trebly beautiful) pash shared by Ethan and Jake. Jake - a none-too-bright Yaller Dawg of indeterminate species, sitting moonily on the patio beneath the table umbrella, gazing longingly aloft to where Juliet - er, Ethan - preened himself upon the balcony of the kitchen windowsill. "I was a Dawg, and he was a Cat/In that yard in Long Island City./Yet we crushed with a crush far more lush than a crush/Did I and Ethan T. Kitty."
That's actually better versifying than the original, "we loved with a love that was more than love..." Less repetive, retaining internal rhyme.
Too bad Nabokov isn't around to write this heartwrenching interspecies romance of Dumbert Dumbert and Catamita.
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