A cat, a really fat cat, lives in this house. I can’t say I have a cat, because no one has this cat. She decided to join us here out of desperation. At her previous owner’s house, there were four other cats who ganged up on her and decided she couldn’t eat at “their” house. So, she came over here and sat on the side porch. She would sneak back over at times for some food before scooting right back to our stoop. She sat there for weeks at a time and I was content to let her sit there. But, no, my aunt worried about the cat.
First, it was “That cat isn’t eating” and had I been paying attention, I would have known that the first salvo had been fired over my boom. Not being clever, I just let it pass, but before long, it was brought to my attention that the cat couldn’t possibly be eating since she sat on our porch so many hours each day. I successfully ignored this advice once again, but before I knew it there was a small dish with cat food on the steps.
This was the beginning of the end since all the other neighborhood cats, and there was a slew of them at that time, decided her food was their absolute favorite eating it before she could get to it. So, the food was moved to the back steps, then, to the back porch and, finally, into the house. Next, thing I knew there was a litter box in the house and cat toys which the cat ignored with total disdain.
Turns out she was our neighbor’s cat and they were glad to be rid of her. She is probably the most unfriendly cat there is. She didn’t like to be touched and didn’t want anything to do with humans. However, she adopted me. I think it’s because she knew I didn’t want her and her mess around the house. I had a dog and didn’t want another pet. But this cat decided she liked me and it was okay for me to touch her. Go figure.
First, I could rub her with my foot and only my foot. Then, it was a light scratching on the back with my hand. Now, she is pushing me around like I’m some sort of patsy. Scratch me. Feed me. Clean my litter box. Let me out. Let me in. Then, there’s the stare. It kind of says, “Who are you and why are you in my house.” I get that whenever she has chosen to be alone and I step into the room. Well, excuse me!
What are you supposed to do? I guess this relationship is a “til death do us part” one. I’m still not sure I really like this cat, but she’s here and, unofficially, she’s mine. Officially, she belongs to no one, but she has found this cushy life and isn’t leaving. So, I’ll do what she tells me………….whoops, gotta go. The litter box needs cleaning.