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Things I Never Expected When Adopting a Cat
August 7, 2018
Yeah About That:
Some Things I never Expected when I Adopted a Cat
When we adopted Sgt. Pepper, I thought I had a pretty good idea of what to expect from having a cat. I’d read a lot, talked to folks who had cats, and all that due diligence. I thought we were prepared.
I had no idea.
Some things I never expected:
Watching our cat routinely lick the hairspray out of my husband’s hair.
Sarge’s taking on a Zen-Cat mode in which he gazes at everything from a barking dog to our iRobot with the expression of “Dude, what is your problem?”
Listening to Sarge lose his Zen-Cat mode whenever we put him in his carrier, especially for a trip to the vet. He moans the whole way.
Suffering a cat’s withering gaze as my son yelled to his mini-dachshund, “Hans, stop licking the cat!”
Witnessing our first and only Pet Rally as Sarge led Hans and Winston the beagle on the run up one set of stairs, across the 2nd floor and down another laps several laps until my daughter-in-law tackled the beagle. Sarge retired behind the washing machine.
Waiting for Sarge to stop lapping up the melted ice cream from a carton lid – he prefers Butter Pecan.
Standing bent almost in half (thank you, T’ai Chi) to offer my mini-Morris the cat a spoonful of some new food to see if he will eat it before I serve it to him on one of our plates. Cat bowls in our house hold loose change, threads and lint.
Gauging the pace of Sarge’s laps between the kitchen and the family room so I can cook or clean without stepping on him – doesn’t always work; since his mini-stroke, the cat walks in mini-circles with a ragtime rhythm.
Giving my cat a ‘time-out’ when he won’t heed commands to leave the kitchen so I can clean up the food I spilled after tripping over him; he also shook off the dreaded shot from the water bottle, so what was I to do? Yeah. About that: the ‘time-out’ lasted half a second and he was underfoot again.
Creating cat fashions to keep Sarge from licking his hot spots. I crocheted a cat sweater in one night, only to have him wriggle out of said sweater by the next day. My husband then fashioned a sort of ‘tank-top’ out of pantyhose to keep Sarge’s hot spots covered. Sarge was not amused. But he healed.
Having an administrative ‘assistant’ next to or on my laptop as I type this. That’s four rows of 6s I’ve deleted. I’m still trying to figure out what he stood on to get my cursor jumping all over the page.
The incredibly sweet, if butt-numbing, experience of having my fur ball purr his way into my lap and sleep in my arms…for 2.5 hours.
Yes, I suppose we spoil him. He is our cat. We are his humans. And that’s that.