My friend Arman drops
his cat, Dinah, off at our house. He is going away for a week and my wife
and I are cat sitting for the first time.
With Dinah comes a trunk load of kitty accoutrements. Scratching post,
bed/basket, piece of string, litter, dry food dispenser and case of “wet”
cat food. More stuff than I took with me to tour Europe in my 20’s.
The cat starts checking out the house, jumping on the countertop. Arman
teaches us that a loud hand clap will make her stop what she is doing.
We need to be taught, as we don’t have pets. She jumps up again,
he claps again. He then picks her up and shows her the countertop, claiming
that this little orientation is all that she needs.
He moves her around the room, letting her look on top of the fridge, on
the shelf, in cupboards. For the first time I begin to suspect that Arman
is insane, but then I realize that this is typical cat owner behavior.
It could pass for insanity in a pinch, though.
I vow, at that moment, to never head down that road. I will refer to Dinah
only as “cat,” allowing me the emotional distance
necessary to keep such a vow. For the next five days I will provide food,
shelter, and the occasional scratch behind the ear or a bit of string
play, but I will not become a cat person.
DAY ONE
Give cat her morning
allotment of canned cat food. Not something you want to smell first thing
in the morning. Or any time of the day, really. Had there been any food
in my stomach, I’d have lost it. Cat gets excited over the sound
of the opening can, but ignores food.
Christina (wife) calls me in to look at something cat is doing: Twitching
her tail against a magazine. Pretty cute.
Cat seems interested in what is under the sink, so I open the cabinet
door and she enters. She hangs out for a while. Pretty cute.
That night, cat sleeps in our room, stepping on my head in order to get
to the windowsill. Pretty cute.
DAY TWO
I’m mildly allergic
to cats. Box of tissue is now constantly by my side. If I steered clear
it would be better, but I just can’t keep away.
Catch myself asking cat where things are: “Where’s my wallet,
cat? Where is it? Did you see it? Where it is, diddy widdy widdums?”
Someone once said to me, “I never liked cats until I started getting
stoned.” Now I know what they mean. Cat and I played with string
for three solid hours.
She sleeps in our bed again, this time at the foot of it. Pretty cute.
DAY THREE
Christina gets out of
bed and says to cat, “Dinah, come help me make French toast.”
She doesn’t know I’m keeping this diary.
Took first picture of cat doing something cute.
Moments later, take series of pictures of each of us holding cat.
DAY FOUR
Give cat morning canned food. Doesn’t smell that bad, really.
Guests come over and we talk about cat, about the cute things she’s
done, how she likes sitting at the top of the stairs, how she sleeps with
us. Soon we locate cat and bring her downstairs against her will so guests
can look at her.
While I’m writing, cat likes to sit on my lap. She walks across the
keyboard on her way somewhere else. Cat is now my Muse. I write
a blues song about the incident:
Sat down to write you a love letter
But the words just wouldn’t come
I’m typing with my fingers
But I feel like I’m all thumbs
‘Cause there’s a…
Cat on the keyboard
Cat on the keyboard of my soul.
She sleeps with us again,
this time getting in bed before we do. Widdle diddums. We huddle her up
close between us, telling her in high pitched voices how much we love
her.
DAY FIVE
Arman gets home tonight.
Christina calls from work and tells me to lock the doors and not let him
in. She explains that cat loves us now, and wants to stay. She makes me
put the phone next to cat’s head so she can talk to her.
Arman returns and I try to change the subject each time he asks about
his cat, hoping he’ll forget and leave her with us. We love her so.
Arman packs up cat goodies. I secretly slip a little can of cat food in
my pocket.
And then, cat is gone, and I am alone. So very alone. Christina gets home
and our house feels empty. There is not much to talk about.
We wonder aloud if it is too early to call Arman and ask to speak to cat.
I open the can of cat food and set it on the table. Mmmmm. Smells like
love.
home
sign
up to get
irrelativity
(yes, free)
read the
archives
buy stuff
you
suddenly need
revealing info
about me
