Excitable Boy

I had a friend once whose idea of having fun at a party was to pick a fight with my big grey cat Clancy ( AKA the Grey Menace). Clancy did not need too many prompts to get into play fight mode. Wave a hand before his face, and you were off to the fights. Since some people in my crowd would bet on anything, the smart money was on the cat.

One time, someone tried to kick the Grey Menace. That could have worked better. He seemed to understand that this was no longer a sporting match between two gentlemen and went into full combat mode.
The change between Let’s Wrestle and Scratch to full combat mode was like escalating from a few kicks and punches to swords. The bozo who initiated it was bleeding freely when he ran from the house. Ounce per ounce, a cat fields a better offensive system than an unarmed human – especially an overconfident one.

Lest you think these parties were bloodsports get-togethers, Clancy was perfectly happy to socialize at parties. Like most cats, he enjoyed respectful attention, food, and good company. Just a bit of a womanizer, he seemed to prefer women who wore certain scents.
Musically, he was not into sedate or sedative music – something like a Gregorian Chant was not his style. He was responsive to the music of a Warren Zevon, AC/DC, or Grateful Dead, and you could watch his tail start moving to Excitable Boy or Highway to Hell.
How did he wind up being the sort of cat he was? Well, he partnered with me in the late summer of 1969. He spent most of the following year on the road with me in Canada and the States, living a rather “interesting” life drifting from one Folkie pad to another, meeting exciting people, and living a hip existence. Luckily, he was an extrovert who took a great interest in the novel and flamboyant lifestyle. While he enjoyed a playtime of chasing cat toys or getting nipped, he liked socializing with interesting people. He was not an average kitty at all.