How columnist’s life turned into ‘Purr for the Course’
R ay Parr, veteran writer for The Oklahoman, was described by a fellow newsman as “one of the finest news writers Oklahoma has ever produced, especially when the story demanded a light or humorous touch.”
While Parr’s Sunday column, “Parr for the Course” was mostly a lighter look at politics, this item from July 17, 1977, explored his relationship with the family cat.
The story began with the consequences suffered by fellow newspaper columnist Wayne Mackey when he stepped on his dog in the middle of the night.
I once stepped on the tail of a Siamese cat in the middle of the night but I didn’t get a broken rib. Just a chewed-up ankle.
I’ve had that Siamese cat out to my house for four years now and am still looking for her owner. I let her in one night during a winter snowstorm and she decided she liked the place.
Instead of leaving the next morning, she got the idea it was a bit crowded with both of us there and did everything she could think of to run me off. She would sneak up behind me and bite me on the ankle every time I came home. What a way to be greeted after a hard day at the office.
That is the most arrogant creature that ever sat foot in my house. You would think she pays the taxes the way she orders my wife around.
As hungry as she must have been when I first let her in she wouldn’t eat a bite until my wife got out and located the correct brand of cat food. She bought a dozen different cans before she hit on the right one.
Our entire grocery budget went for cat food and I nearly starved to death that week.
But do you think a Siamese cat ever appreciates anything? No, she just looked at us like we sure must be stupid to take so long to find the right brand.
She also attracts boy cats, although she does not care for them at all. They sit outside my window and howl all night long for romance.
In order to get any sleep I have to stumble out in the middle of the night and explain to them about her operation before they will leave. But a new bunch keeps coming back.
But she is growing more tolerant of me. She has quit biting me on the ankle, unless I do something she doesn’t like, such as remaining in bed after 7 a.m. which considers the reasonable breakfast hour.
I wanted to get another dog when my old English bulldog departed. But my wife said, no, we might want to go some place when I retired and she did not want to be tied down.
Now we can’t go anyplace because of that darn cat. And I still don’t have a dog.
One thing about it, if we ever get divorced there won’t be any bitter court fight over the custody of our beloved pet. I will demonstrate to the court that I am one big-hearted son of a gun by agreeing without argument that she gets one Siamese cat and 12 cans of cat food. I won’t even insist on visitation rights.