I work from home, and the cat that the kids brought home from the shelter last year really annoys me.
I'll be having a conversation with a customer when she strolls in, yowling for attention. If I ignore her, she'll use my chair as a scratching post. I had to move my InBasket up on a shelf because she'd climb in the top basket and use it as a sleeping station. (Yes, she DID break the basket and she now sleeps in the spot on my desk where the basket used to sit.)
Imagine yourself on a stressful business day when you have loads to do, then imagine a cat snoozing right in front of you, waking up only to lick, stretch, and dump a load of cat hair on your computer. Anyone would want to punt the kitty out the door, right?
I've never done it, but it's tempting on the bad days. The only thing that holds me back is the knowledge that I'm the dumb cat's #1 person. The kids may fawn all over her, but I'm the one she shadows. I overheard my daughter telling a friend this weekend, "Don't pick the cat up. She only likes it when my mom does it."
I had a cat before this one. Mouser ignored everyone in the house but me. He was 8 years old when I got him, and we called him the "invisible cat" because he only appeared at night after the kids went to bed. As Mouser got older and slower, he became more visible, and even let our kids touch him from time to time. After 8-9 years, he developed a tumor on his side and I had to put him to sleep. I stroked and petted him as the doctor inserted the needle, and watched the light die from his eyes.
I'll never forget the love and trust in those eyes as he went. No human is worthy of that adoration, especially me. I try, though. Even though I can't remember this new cat's name half the time, I try to be patient with it for Mouser's sake.
There's a saying about how all men should strive to be half as good as their dog thinks they are. I guess that covers women and dead cats, too.
Monday, June 30, 2008
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