So I guess it’s about time I wrote about the cat.
The stupid cat, as I so rudely refer to her as. Even though you might already hate me for this, please read on.
In my life, I have had numerous cats, and I’m not even a ‘cat person.’ At one point I had three cats (all at once). Occasionally I have referred to any one of the past or present cats in my writing – but ONLY occasionally.
And now, I have one cat – only one. But this one is not part of the previous group of three. This is a new one, who actually looks like one we used to have, so people who come to visit think it’s the same one of the previous three. But that would make the cat 20 years old, which IS a possibility, and something that could have gained my family status in the Guinness World Records book, which truly would have been neat….but I digress.
(did you follow all that?)
So now we only have one. But not the same one of the previous three….oh never mind.
I refer to her as ‘the stupid cat,’ which really isn’t very nice. I don’t know why she gets on my nerves, but I think it’s because I just don’t have time for a cat underfoot. I don’t wish her harm, just so you know. I would never hurt her, and I don’t yell at her - I do love her. I know I will cry when the time comes for her to go to kitty heaven, and with our house seeming empty without her, I will likely get another cat.
Not to replace her, mind you. No one cat could replace her.
I truly am an animal lover; I wish them no harm. When she first came to us as a rescue cat, she was very, very sick, so I had to take her to the vet - A LOT. Then I had to shove medicine down her throat - no fun for either of us - and she might remember me as a meanie, but…I saved her life. So see? I have been nice to her.
I consider our household fortunate to be able to have ANY kind of animal at all. A semi-lenient landlord and allergy-free human family members make this possible. For this, I am grateful.
I know I’m going to end up in purgatory for all eternity for referring to her as ‘the stupid cat.’ I realized how bad I had become when someone who I have known for a long time asked the cat’s name – they only knew her as ‘the stupid cat.’ It’s Sam – short for Samantha. I know it’s shameful of me. I think I need to stop this.
And you would think as an owner of a cat, I would be writing funny little stories and anecdotes about her. But I don’t.
I do feel sorry for the poor thing, as she doesn’t deserve my negative thoughts. She does nothing wrong: no shredding of couches and no puking up of hairballs every five minutes. There is no scratching, biting or hissing, and her litter box is properly used. I don’t even clean said box, nor do I clean the cat-hair covered couch. Someone else in the house does that, because frankly, I just don’t have time for that nonsense.
But you would think like me if in your busy life, feeding a cat was just ONE MORE THING TO DO (but really, how hard is it to plot canned cat puree in dish?). But don't worry, I do feed her and clean her dishes. She gives me no choice. As soon as I come home from work, she snakes her way around my legs, following me around, waiting to be fed. I have a tendency to REALLY harm myself when I trip and fall (breaking this, twisting and tearing that), so tripping over a hungry cat does NOT a happy mommy make. If I prolong feeding her because, say, oh MAYBE I have to start dinner for the HUMANS in the house first, she sits by her bowl with her back to me. I’ll give YOU the cold shoulder, MISSY! I snarl (yes, I have said this to her before) (but she doesn’t understand me, for some reason).
So out of guilt, I figured it would only be right I dedicate one – at least ONE – story about her.
Because as a cat owner, I guess that’s what I’m supposed to do. Write about my cat. So there, I did it. I wrote about her. I think this makes up for my evil thoughts against her. Don’t hate me.
Hemmingway had many, many cats, and although I am not sure he ever wrote about them, I doubt he ever called them ‘stupid.’ I think I have a lot to learn from him. Well, maybe not a lot, but some. Despite being thought of as a bit odd, he IS now famously famous.
But they say all writers are odd. And they say the same about ‘cat people.’
So before you think me cruel and undeserving, telling me how there are many out there who would love to have her, remember this - I just wrote about her, I do feed her, I DO pet her, and I guess I kinda like her…. My house of four would seem empty without her.
Oh for God’s sake. Excuse me, but she’s doing something cute. I have to go take a picture of the - er, Sam.