I know...I'm such a single girl...writing about crazy float trips, journeys, her cat...no judgement, please. He's crazy, I have to get it out.
I thought that adopting a new cat would be the missing ingredient in my stellar new apartment, but I'm really questioning myself now...was life really so bad with my quiet nights and clean floors?
So...the cat I chose. He came from the Humane Society, and has a sketchy past. Most info I could gain from them says he's a stray who's been a shelter cat for a while...hmm...a while? I envision him on the street with his own little street cat gang...he's definitely capable. And he's two...should be slightly matured but still playful, but definitely not a kitten. Thought I was doing a noble deed in taking an adult that not everyone might want...noble indeed.
Let me let you into my life a bit with this new creature...
1. He's halfway laying on the computer as I type this. He does this because he can't stand to be more than 3 feet away from me at any given time.
2. I just took a bath. He supervised from the ledge of the bathtub, knocking my razor into the water with a huge splash at every chance. He's fallen in, twice, but does it stop him, no. He also enjoys showers. Not normal!
3. I wake up often at 3 am to a bed full of toys...no, not those kinds of toys...cat toys. Because 3 am is the best time for cat owner/cat interaction. I have learned through this that fuzzy sheepskin mini balls are the best toy ever. They roll so he can chase them without me...with his nails on hardwood floors...another great sound at 3 am. I never win.
4. Walls are apparently for climbing. Never knew that.
5. Kitchen counters are fair game...I've learned to disinfect very well.
I guess through all this, I have learned that much like dogs, cats can pick up on your neurosis. I thought I was immune, but I think karma is really trying to teach me something. If Leo-man couldn't teach me patience...this monster of a cat is going to beat it into me.
He does give great hugs though, and even when he tries to smother me in the middle of the night, he's usually happy with being roughly repositioned.
Is this some sort of sick preparation for living with a real man?
