I live with two cats. They aren’t mine, legally, but we occupy the same household and I help take care of them. We watch shows and lounge in sun spots together, slow blinking at each other. I pretend to look the other way if I drop a particularly tasty crumb of Human Food. Our collective stray hairs makes the discount Roomba seize up.
The “House Panther” (a fancy way of saying black cat) is a greedy old man. He loves to eat: he’ll inhale his meal and immediately edge toward someone else’s bowl or plate. He also enjoys pets and especially belly rubs! His companion– a calico/tabby mix– we ended up nicknaming “Mean Lil Ass,” due to her grumpy-looking face and her fondness for playing rough. She is about 7 years his junior so she still has that kitten energy, to HP’s annoyance.
Together, they can be annoying jerks!
Like I said, the House Panther loves to eat. And he is impatient. So he meows. In your face. And he will paw at the noisiest, most annoying material he can find until you feed him. And that kitten energy has MLA writing checks that her fur can’t cash. Fur literally flies, and she will give back just as good– and louder. Have you ever jolted awake to Super Smash Bros sound effects from beneath your bed? It’s pretty harrowing and I do not recommend it.
But they’re cats. They do cat stuff. Sometimes it doesn’t make sense, other times it’s infuriating. Most times it’s still pretty funny.
MLA enjoys pushing things and hiding in small crevices. She loves to run and jump and have the expensive flatscreen TV wobble from her effort. HP loves to TELL YOU ABOUT IT, at 2 in the morning when you’re supposed to be sleeping and somehow, his meows are the right pitch to evade your earplugs and white noise– if only for the chance to butter you up with kitty snuggles before demanding his breakfast 3 hours early. Both would love to make off with an entire chicken if they could (and honestly, you can’t really blame them). There’s claw marks in the couch. Litter gets in my shoes. They get up to antics and Silly Shit. They make goofy faces. Both love being where they shouldn’t be. And I still don’t know what they’re looking at, over there.
I remind myself that they are Not a People no matter how many times they can stand on their hind legs. That’s just how kitties do. Whenever they irritate me I try to take a deep breath and think: what do they need? What do they want? You know, instead of just chucking a pillow at them or using the CatSoaker9000. I can do something more constructive– and not punish the cat, I learned too late in life!– like checking their water bowl (and to see if it is meal time), or add another cat tree to the grocery list, and spending quality time with them.
Cats may be independent, but they get lonely, too. They are Banished from my room during bedtime due to their antics, so I try to make time for them by hanging out, or pulling out some Cat Enrichment with catnip. And pet them, of course.
Besides, I can always use more patience.
As much as I can complain (and I do!), I do love my rowdy cohabiters. You can tell due to the myriad of nicknames I have for them both.
