When living with a cat, one must accept certain inevitabilities. For example, objects placed upon a surface will somehow end up on the floor, but never while anyone is present. Glasses put on the nightstand before bedtime will prove irresistible; the cat will bat the glasses to the floor. Cats are awake just before the alarm, and sometimes figure out how to break into a room to become the alarm clock.
A cat is a creature unto herself. I do not own my cat; my cat resides in my apartment, and I do her bidding. Occasionally I wonder if cats actually love their humans. Rory certainly seems to express affection to me, especially at 5:30 in the morning when she gets the urge to stick her cold nose in my ear, or wash my face, or crawl under the bedclothes with me. It's very sweet, really, but couldn't she wait an hour?
The kitten, Rowan, also expresses affection by nibbling toes as I stumble to the bathroom, or barging in while I take a shower. ("Out!" I'll yell and flick droplets of water). Rory taught Rowan how to push open doors, and sometimes they team up to get into my bedroom early in the morning. Rowan just wants to play, not understanding that she can't pull things out of my book bag, bat my pens off of my desk, or chew on the corners of my books. She's especially needy if she's been left alone all night.
Rory greets me as I walk toward my apartment, her loud meows and jingling collar following me toward the door. I pick her up and she purrs enthusiastically, but really what she wants is her food and water, and some petting--afterward, she cries to be let back out.
It's startling to realize that my cat and I have a special bond, an actual relationship. She meows when she sees me because she wants my attention, even if Lance is already petting her. (She knows he's the one to beg treats from, though). She jumps in my lap, snuggles with me when I sleep, and looks to me as her primary human being. She'll even try to follow me to work, if I don't stop her by putting her in the apartment or leaving when she's not looking.
But still, she is a cat, and she has her independence and own pursuits. Life with a cat may entail finding lost items (my contacts case used to find its way from the bathroom to under the refrigerator) and putting up with a furry body stretched across a book, but it's also pretty fun--and in the winter, a cat in the lap is almost as nice as a roaring fire to keep you warm.
3 comments:
Sometimes I wonder what and how Helo thinks and feels about things--especially me and Kerry--in that tiny little brain of is. Ultimately, though, all that matters is that he is fuzzy. That is all he needs to be our household god.
I miss my cat, Phobos. He would box with me, and always knew to hit my glasses off my face before engaging in the true fight. He also terrorized the family chihuahua, so doubleplusgood for him.
I have five cats at present. Well, they're at my parents' due to stupid overpriced pet deposits here. But they fascinate me to no end. I have a totally different relationship with each one, and they each have very different relationships with each other. I love going home and seeing them spread out like a lion pride along the front porch.
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