Love Cats

“You could work in a little robot love, post-apocalyptic type fun.  How about a step by step guide to the bag pipes?”

“And I suppose you want me to tie them together?”

“Well, yeah!”

 

And that’s why friends don’t let friends recommend blog topics. Still at this point I’m game for just about anything.  See, It’s been a busy day of running errands and neutering cats.

 

That’s right, I adopted a cat. At least I think I did.   Maybe she adopted me. I’m a sucker for a sweet purr and some rubbing fur.  I think she knows it. If we’re playing cat and mouse.  It’s obvious who’s playing which role.

 

Today, the part of the cat will be played by A. Cat.

 

Yesterday I walked past her cage, and she pawed “hello” at me.  I should have kept going, but I stopped. Isn’t that always how we all fall in love?  A bat to the head and a lilting purr?  I’m hearig a purr, and I’m hearing bells.  This purr is a hypnotic purr and I turn to meet it. Her eyes meet mine. I’m staring out of my depth. I’m getting sleepier and sleepier. She’s rubbing against wire mesh—no mewing, just cadence purring—slowly. The last time this happened, I got married.  Still, how could I say no?  There’s one born every minute, and my time is now.

 

“Excuse me, can I adopt this one?”

 

That’s all I remember.  Roll the fluffy love music and video clips cuz somebody had Rob in her paws.  I signed all the paperwork, scheduled her shots, performed the neutering, and went home. No, wait, I didn’t perform it.  That’s right it was another scheduling; somebody else performed the cutting.  I was told I might need to wait three days.  Three days? I wasn’t getting a mail order bride--just a cat.

 

Maria, I just met a girl named Maria…

 

No, Maria wasn’t her name-o. It wasn’t Bingo either.  I’m no a farmer, and she is not a dog.  She’s adorable.  No, at that point her name was 349A, but that all changed when she met me.  I took her off the streets and gave her a home.

 

I was anxious all morning.  What would I do?  What would I say?  Would she like me?  I went to the store and bought her some toys.  I hear the girls like those. Some of them vibrated, others just looked like small furry woodland creatures.  I wanted to make sure she had everything she needed.

 

“Oh! You’ve got a kitty!” says the cashier.

“No, it’s my neighbor. He likes these kind of things.” I lie.  I’m blushing.  I think she knows.  She just smiles and puts the stuff in a brown paper bag.  I thank her and I’m on my way.

 

I spent the rest of the morning pacing.  I waited for the call.  I couldn’t wait 3 days to see her again!  If I called would I seem needy?  If I just waited, would I look like I didn’t care?

 

I’d been burned before.  I’ve seen cats come and go.  Still, I wanted to try again.  I wanted this time to work.  I tried to put aside all my previous baggage, and accept her for who she was.  I wanted to give her a home, and make her feel safe.  If she was a mouser, great, if she wasn’t, then that was ok too.  I just wanted her to know she was loved.

 

So how could I prepare a blog when I was so nervous?  All I could do was wait in a nervous tree and fidget.  Luckily I had a few friends willing to talk me down.  One kept me talking about Firefly and Battlestar Galactica, the other kept me distracted in her own way:

 

“Do ya get to get her today? huh? do ya? huh?”

 

I had a bunch of errands to run, but I didn’t want to miss the call.  So I decided to drive by her place first.  I know, I know, it’s a little stalkerish, but it’s only a real stalker situation, if I rush in and grab her, right?  I wasn’t going to do that.  I was just going to ask when she could come out and play.

 

“Hey little girl, want some candy?”

 

As I’m approaching the animal shelter door, my phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Boyd?”

“Yes.”

“Hi, this is Daniel, from the animal shelter.  I wanted you to know that the cat you adopted will be ready in one hour.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” I can see the guy through the glass door.  He’s nodding as he says it.  He looks up, and I dodge against the wall.  I don’t want him to see me like this.

 

WOO HOO! This is better than prom!

 

Still, I have some things to get done.  My heart pounds as I rush through Target and Costco.  I can’t wait!  I can’t even think.  I’m not paying much attention to what I’m buying.  I think that’s why the woman behind me in line is staring at my 12 cases of Trojans and Depends.  I decide to skip Costco until I can think clearly.

 

I rush back to the animal shelter; back into the paws of a certain someone waiting for me. We meet. The climactic music rises. It’s strings. It’s horns.  It’s love!

 

“Hi!”

“purrrrrr.”

 

I take her home; we touch; she hides behind the bed. It’s ok, the last time this happened, I flew back from Seattle, dejected.  It’s fine.  We’ll work through this little impasse. She still loves me.  She just doesn’t want to come out yet.

 

When she’s ready, she’ll come out. I’ve given her a home, and I’ll care for her as best I can.  Her name is Persephone, and she is a queen.

 

Now, I have to blog.  I’m at my coffee shop, thinking of Persephone. Her purr. Her eyes. Her fur.  Has she come out from behind the bed yet? How can I write in a time like this?  I guess in a time like this, I take a friends advice.

 

Once upon a time, there was this robot bagpipe instructor. After the Earth died, he gave his heart and oily parts to a Cyborg stripper/pirate, named Candee…

 

Yeah, I guess I can make that work.

Say hello to Persephone