Julie Andrews sung it right in The Sound Of Music all those years ago: warm fuzzy kittens are one of my favorite things!
It doesn’t matter what mood I’m in; I can be lower than a snakes belly, higher than a kite, or just plodding along somewhere in between, and my cat always makes me feel better.
My cat – Named Cat – is my baby. She is spoiled rotten, rules the roost and wants for nothing. She has an attitude like mine, and will, quite literally, bitch slap you if you annoy her.
She has her own spot on our King Size bed – my tiny little furball takes up about a metre squared of my bed. And on the occasion when I am in “her spot” she will sit and stare at me with a glare that lets me know I am in the wrong.
She is a ball of excitement, and I am grateful for the day she came to live with us. She makes me laugh, she makes me yell, and sometimes she annoys the crap out of me. But if I am crying she will come and rub her face on mine and get the tears. If I am an unwell she comes and camps beside me and won’t leave me. She appreciates the LittleMermaid, and will watch Milo and Otis – quite literally.
She has an attitude, is a bitch, and will whinge till she gets what she wants. I have gone to take a bite of a KFC burger before and found her attached to it!
I can be in the worst mood ever and she makes it OK. She will snuggle up, and find that perfect position where she is comfortable and make me pat her.
She is a
moulting pain in the butt long haired cat which means we find hair everywhere. Every. Freaking. Where. I had to buy her a brush that was rubber so I could get it off her before it got on our clothes. And yes, I paid more for hair brush than I do for my own.
Cat is my sanity. I can cry to her, scream at her, laugh and tease her till her tail is the size of five tails, yet she always comes back and lets me know its OK. She has her own facial expressions, and I swear to God one of them quite plainly says “You should be riding the Short Bus.” Her facial fur pattern is in the shape of a smile, and her big eyes are always full of whatever I want to imagine in them at the time.
Sometimes, I wish she could talk back to me, but then I remember that she has seen things!
Cat makes me wonder how people can give up their pets without a decent reason. Cat is my baby, I couldn’t imagine giving her away because I was sick of her. Yes, she sooks, and whinges, and sometimes drives me up the wall, but I still love how she meets me at the door when I get home, and how at night she will come and curl up next to my head, with her paw on my shoulder.
I read something the other day: it was called the Will of a Dog. It got me to thinking – I would HATE to get another Cat when Cat eventually dies. But after reading the piece it made me change my view. It was about how people get to make a will, but not pets. And it went on to say that what a pet would want more than anything was for you to love another animal as much as you loved them.
An animal isn’t for “Until You Get Sick Of It”… It for “Until the End/You can’t care for it properly anymore”.