We have the best kind of cat.
It’s the neighbor’s cat, but she spends about ¾ of her time on our porch, curled up in one of our wrought iron chairs, staring down the UPS man as he drops off his deliveries.
It’s the perfect compromise for a household where 2/5 of the family is allergic to cats, and another 2/5 absolutely loves them. (Notice how that didn’t exactly add up to five? I’ll give you a hint. Um… me ;)
The girls can love on her, pet her, and hold her… all without the responsibilities of being a pet owner. You know, like vet bills, changing the litter box, and most importantly… never having to be around cat food (because isn’t that just some of the most vile smelling stuff ever??)
Occasionally, though, this cat takes advantage of my porch hospitality and actually sneaks into my house. Granted, it’s usually when one of the kids has left the door wide open, allowing her (and mosquitoes, geckos, and random woodland creatures) to make themselves at home. But that's not the point... I have shooed Callie back out of my house often enough that I think she should KNOW she can’t come inside. Hence, the use of the term ‘sneak’.
Plus she’s flat-out disdainful.
Anyway, there have been many times that I will come around the corner into the kitchen, and she’ll be sitting there, giving me that ‘look’. You know the one… “Hell’s yeah, I’m in your kitchen. Whatcha’ gonna do about it? I dare ya.” She TOTALLY has an attitude. (cattitude?)
This morning, when I made it back from the store (did you know that 7:45 a.m. is the *best* time to shop?? There’s nobody there! Scratch that. It’s super crowded. You probably shouldn’t go) I was unloading my grocery bags (recyclable!) into the kitchen… and I hear that distinctive jingling of tags.
That damn cat was somewhere in my house.
Okay, okay… I guess I *did* leave the door out to the garage open so that I could unload everything. YOU try opening the door with your hands full of grocery bags (recyclable!)
Callie is one smart cookie, though… she was nowhere to be found. She stayed just out of my sight. I’d turn around to unload a bag, and hear her tags jingling… I’d move through the kitchen, and hear her…but the minute I tried to stand really still to get her to walk through the room? Nothing.
It’s like she *knew* that she should only move when I was moving, so I’d get all flustered, and try to run around the corner to catch her. And then I'd run through the family room to make sure she's not making herself a guinea pig sandwich, and then I'd run past the bathroom…
Where I would catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, looking like a crazed idiot…
Wearing the sweatshirt I’d tied around my waist.
The zip-up sweatshirt with the metal zipper pulls.
Um. Yeah.
3 comments:
Dang, you must be gettin' old girl! Doing granny things like chasing your own sounds...
Our neighbor's cat likes to sneak in sometimes too. Once I was back in my room (kids were at school) and I heard our piano playing. I thought, wow, I didn't think the dogs could jump up there...and it was the cat on the piano keys! Freaky.
Are you still doing 31 parties? My MIL wants to have one and she emailed you from your website but never heard back. Email me at wlambert(at)gmail(dot)com and I'll get you her contact info. I would rather her use you for a party than some random lady from a craft fair.
LMAO! Only because I would totally do something like that! :)
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