Yes. I am a cat person.
It's a bold statement, one that I never before thought I could muster up the guts to speak. I'd heard it on several occasions yet always had thought to myself, "as soon as this conversation is over, my relationship with this person is done. She is one of them." And, indeed, I always believed that they were different. They spent innumerable dollars on fancy portraits that hung above their mantels; they then worshipped these portraits like greek gods. Even worse, they spoke to their objects of affection like babies. "Does my little Fluff-Fluff girl want a kiss? Ooh, she does! She does! C'mere my little Fluffer!" they would coo, unashamed.
There was a time that I scoffed at these people. These... cat people who chose a pet that would rather play with a piece of string than catch a frisbee. You can't bring a cat to the beach or go jogging with a cat at your side. You never hear of crazy old dog ladies. "What's the point?" I'd always wondered. But then again, I'd never had a cat.
On August 4th, 2008, I was visiting the local animal shelter (to see the dogs, of course) when I noticed a little black and white ball of fur staring up at me through the wire mesh of a cage. I bent down to get a closer look, wondering what kind of puppy could be so tiny. Two tiny green eyes popped open from inside the furball. Cat eyes. I groaned, knowing I would be sucked in by this little thing. An hour later, I was carrying my two pound kitten into Petsmart to buy some food and a litterbox.
As we walked through the aisles, I explained to her what would and would not be allowed in my house. "I will not be talking nonsense to you!" I lectured. "You will be treated like a dog. You will eat when dinner is served, and you will eat what I put down for you. You will learn how to sit, and you do not have free range of the countertop." While picking out a nice grey bed, I opted to give her the name Moo. She was, after all, black and white, and it reminded me of something you would name a dog. I would not have a Princess or Sweetie in my house.
A few days passed and I decided that maybe I had previously been too hard on cat people. She was entertaining, after all. I realized that she was far more amused with a newspaper or a tinfoil ball than any of the nice mouse-shaped toys I had bought for her. Although I wasn't then ready to admit my love for cats, I decided to give it time. We would bond in a quiet, human sort of way.
Weeks passed. She gained weight and eventually became a massive four pounds. We had a nice relationship; although I had to remove her from the countertops on occasion, she seemed to know her boundaries. One day in mid-October, I was fixing her dinner at the counter (she seemed to have won that battle; she had "trained" me to give her half wet food and half dry) when I took a step backward without looking over my shoulder. A terrible howl followed my step and I realized after a moment of sheer horror that I was standing on Moo's tail.
I jumped off quickly. "Aw, my little Moo baby, mama's so sorry she stepped on your wittle tail!" I offered apologetically.
Wait a minute.
I glared over my shoulder. Who said that? Certainly not I. I looked back at Moo for an answer. She had forgotten about the pain of her crushed tail and was staring at her bowl of food, still untouched on the counter. I put it on the floor for her to enjoy and watched her eat, disgusted with myself for being so weak.
It's been about four months since I've adopted Moo. She now sleeps stretched across my chest. She terrorizes my seventy pound yellow lab. She "countersurfs", as my vet calls it, and I can't always catch her in the act. Much to my dismay, her new favorite perch is the top of my Christmas tree. I have learned to remove the glass ornaments. She has attacked my feet-- and face-- while I've been sleeping. She is a five pound monster, but watching her for an hour is funnier than watching a Jeff Dunham special on Comedy Central.
I haven't yet had her portrait done, and I don't plan to anytime in the near future. I do, however, have about sixteen pictures on my phone that I show my friends on a regular basis. "Look at how Moo was sleeping!" I will say excidedly while whipping out a picture. "Look! She's like a little person!" My friends will stare, unconvinced.
It happens slowly to some and quickly to others, but it always happens if you make the decision to adopt a cat.
Yes. I am turning into one of them.
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