That Darned Cat

On a bitterly cold Saturday morning last winter, I snuggled up on the couch with a good book.  A fire crackled in the grate and the room had an earthy forest scent from the burning logs.  I decided a cup of coffee would make the morning perfect so I went to the kitchen to get one.  I came back to find our cat comfortably ensconced in the blanket I had left on the couch.  Instead of pushing her aside to reclaim my spot, I sat down gingerly on the other end of the couch making sure not to disturb her. This is what it has come to.

We got Carrie at an outdoor pet fair organized by several animal shelters. We took our time, visiting each table because we knew what we wanted:  A cat who was at least a year old and, hopefully, over nocturnal shenanigans; an orange tabby (for some reason  Ben wanted a marmalade cat); and a cat that was sociable and liked people. Carrie seemed to meet everything on our wish list so she came home with us the same day.

It didn’t take time for her to boldly claim everything her little heart desired as her own – from freshly-washed blankets, fleece sweaters, empty grocery bags and more.  As I type these words in my home office, she is settled on my printer as if it’s the most comfortable bed in the world. She started doing this during the many months I worked from home during COVID. I tried, many times, to remove her. But if you’ve ever had a cat, you know they will wear you down. Time and time again, I took her off the printer. And time and time again, she hopped back on until I gave up. I’m still not sure if she wants to keep me company or is doing it just to prove a point.

Although Carrie is mostly an indoor cat, she has also laid claim to the front and back yards.  Heaven help the poor cat who dares step foot on our property. This is Sylvester, a neighbour’s cat.  He is a sweet-tempered boy who occasionally ventures to our patio door. The first time, he was greeted by Carrie who, from inside the house, hissed, and howled, warning him in no uncertain terms to leave.  She rose up on her hind legs, front paws splayed across the glass until I was sure she would go through it, leaving a cut-out of her shape like Wylie Coyote.  Poor Sylvester  was more bewildered than intimidated. He turned and took a few steps away. Then he looked back at me with a confused look, as if to say, “I was only trying to be friendly.”  I know, Sylvester, I know.

Despite being well past the kitten stage, Carrie sometimes gallops through the house in the middle of the night, meowing loudly for no good reason. She has food, water and her choice of the most comfortable resting spots in the house.  I wave this picture of the new kittens born at the barn where we ride at her. They are true barn cats who live in the unheated barn with only the basic creature comforts. “If you don’t stop, I’ll trade you for these three and you can live in the barn!” I hiss at her.  She looks at me with a bored expression, then proceeds to groom herself. 

Who am I kidding?  She knows she’s set for life and that she has two adult humans wrapped around her little paw.

 

 

5 thoughts on “That Darned Cat

  1. Carrie obviously has exquisite taste; she adopted you. Her nocturnal yowls are actually arias – cats love opera ( all the drama, fights, lovely costumes to lie on- good stuff), and see themselves as the ultimate divas.
    We poor humans just don’t realize how fortunate we are. The cat gods have smiled upon us! Rejoice!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. My mom said my first word was CAT. I can’t imagine my home without one.There are so many wonderful things I could say about our cat, Max that lived to be 19. He was a part of us & there is not describing our love for him. Now we have Phoebe that we adopted from a shelter when she was 10. It took a while for her to respond to our love but she is part of our heart now at 15.5 years old.. She recently began limping. She’s had one set of x-rays that ruled out bone cancer in that limb but she wasn’t sitting still for any more x-rays that day … a decision both she & our vet embraced. Arthritis medicine hasn’t helped. We go back for more x-rays on Nov. 15. Cats have such diverse & special personalities. Her name is Phoebe & I don’t want to lose her. They entertain us & drive us nuts & return our love … with conditions, like having full control over our homes & hearts. They just don’t live long enough … not even our Max who lived to almost 20. I LOVED reading about your Carrie. She is a special little furry soul …

    Like

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