I’ve never considered myself to be a cat person.
But over the course of my life I have come to know a few of the creatures and have to say I’ve softened a bit in my outlook. Not that I want a houseful of them or would ever think seeing one lap up milk from a glass while standing on the counter is cute, but I can say I like having a cat in the home.
When I married I inherited not only a Stepdaughter but a pet cat as well. This one is low key and innocuous, takes care of her own business out of doors, and only rarely hauls in dead or dying creatures. And while she is a good cat on the whole, she has some pretty odd little quirks. Some of her behavior, some of these weird little things she does must be intentional, done for her own amusement.
We have taken to naming the ones we could categorize clearly:
“Homeless Kitty” – sits outside sliding glass door and longingly stares inside, as though wishing she were part of our family.
“Quarantined Kitty” – sits inside sliding glass door and wistfully stares outside, as though she wishes she could somehow get out there.
“Jailbreak Kitty” – lurks near the entryway, unseen, and then quickly darts out the door when you open it.
“Prodigal Kitty” – opening up the back door to step outside, kitty comes running and jumps into the open door, meowing gratefully and eagerly. Kitty has returned after her exile.
“Fickle Kitty” – Sits and waits by door, either inside or out, expecting door to be opened. When victim opens door to help kitty out, kitty turns and walks away from the door: “mmm, I changed my mind.”
“Brainless Kitty” – Sit motionless for at least ten minutes, staring at mysterious translucent rectangle embedded in the door to the garage as though she has utterly no clue that it has been her cat door for the past seven years.
“Neglected Kitty” – repeatedly paws at leg of victim seated at computer, meows for wet kitty food every morning as victim tries to catch up on email, tweets and blog posts.
“Jungle Kitty” – Only played when backyard lawn is overdue for a mowing by a couple of weeks, Kitty skulks through tall grass, low and slow until prey is sighted: moth or crane fly. Kitty then pounces on unwary pray, turns to see that humans have observed her behavior, and scampers off to climb over the fence and hide.
“Inconvenient Kitty” – stands on the stairs in exactly the spot she knows I will be walking through while I’m carrying a double load of laundry down.
“Cleaning Kitty” – waits until I am finally settled on the couch, then chooses another spot on the couch directly in my line of sight to begin loud, energetic personal hygiene.
I’m glad she finds her own entertainment.