The ornery gene theory

Redheads and calico cats, in a predominance of numbers in my experience, are ornery. Right? Some are Kra-kra (crazy) on top of this. As if that fiery red hair or fur is waving a red flag, a warning for those tendencies towards hot tempers, topped with a dollop of irrationality. I propose this is due to an ornery gene being attached to the same bit of DNA that is responsible for red hair coloration. A similar gene expressed in cats produces a calico color pattern. 

My sister manifested this theory to a tee. As a strawberry blonde redheaded toddler, she would scowl her displeasure and then voice her fury with yelling and clenched fists. She was the trouble maker and black sheep of the family. She wouldn’t be tamed by rules of polite society, unless she wanted to be subdued. And then the charm spigot was cranked wide open as she poured it on with sparkling sky blue eyes and an engaging smile. She had a full range personality, from little girl with a sunny-sweet disposition to her wild-tornado-Tasmanian-devil rage to that protruding-lip-and-eyelash-clinging-tears contriteness she could turn on at will. She was a maestro at doling them out for optimal results.

She pretty much maintained those tactics and attitudes for her entire life. In cats, I’ve had two calicos. One, Mama Cat (who we later renamed another word that rhymes with witch) was a feline force that demanded respect and distance, which meant well past her lunging reach to swipe you with her claws. She had been an indoor/outdoor cat at a farm store, and was given to me when the store closed. She transitioned to a house cat with no problem. Except, she set up her throne on top of my stereo, because it was warm is my guess. If you passed too close, she would growl. If you pushed her boundary, she jumped to her feet, hissed and swiped. It was startling. She’d had a presence at the feed store, but kept to herself. In my house, she carved out her territory and defended it, quite literally, with fang and claw. No one challenged her. Not human, dog or cat.

The other calico I’d shared my life with was Kra-kra. Even as a kitten, though very sweet, she had obvious mental deviations. My son and I lived on the ranch in Cheyenne where she resided. After a few ridiculous incidents where she got herself into trouble and had to be rescued, we named her Abby, full name Abby-Normal (If you watched the Mel Brooks movie “Young Frankenstein” you’ll get that.). A tiny five-pound cat, she herded cattle with the dogs, trailing along behind those cloven hooves meowing to keep them moving. One time, she leapt into a pit following a flashlight beam. The rancher had been checking on the water line break repair that night. Yep, she’d bounded out in front of him, attacking the light as he walked. When he shone it down into the pit to check if the water was receding, in she went after it. He came back into the house with jeans wet up to his knees. My son and I looked at each other and said in unison: “Abby.” We knew instantly Abby had been involved in the mishap. 

Redheads, beautiful as their coveted hair color may be, seem to almost always have that bold-don’t-mess-with-me attitude built-in. They have the reputation for being temperamental and obstinate for a reason. I maintain it’s a genetic predisposition. All of you Kra-kra calico cats out there raise your paws.