Okay, I recognize that this is a very random thought put into a bunch of words but I feel it is something that needs to be said. My cat’s a real jerk. A supreme jerk. The kind of jerk that causes a little shock and dismay as to how an animal can exhibit such indifference towards the hand that’s feeding it. Or used to feed it, in my case.
We adopted Robert (the cat) from Greenhill Humane Society. Avery was a baby and had no input into our decision to add on to our family. It was truly one of those spontaneous moments – aren’t most pet adoptions? They tend to be one of those decisions that are made lightly and with little forethought to the havoc and destruction that inevitably will happen within minutes of that pet stepping paw in your home. I wish that Robert’s introduction to our house had been that easy. But, I’m jumping ahead of myself here. Let me explain so you can fully understand why I have an axe to grind.
When Jer and I stepped inside of the “cattery” – a name that sends an Alfred Hitchcock-type vision through my mind – we were introduced to approximately 15 different cats. There were black ones and white ones and black and white ones and white and black ones and more black ones. To say I was under whelmed is an understatement. But then, I saw him. A beautiful creature, to say the least. He was big and beefy with orange shapes scattered across his velvety white coat. Now, mind you, I’m actually not a “cat” person and have really had mostly bad luck in the feline department. But, as I stated before, this was a spontaneous decision and therefore I feel I wasn’t really in my right mind. Sort of in a type of frenzy, if you will. I was also trying to replace my recently departed one-and-only good cat I’ve ever owned, Steve (who also happened to be orange – what would Freud say about that?) So there is this beautiful, large, orange-ish cat sitting on a scratching-tree and I’m instantly drawn to him. I quickly tell the Greenhill employee that I would love to hold the cat in the corner. In the meanwhile, Jer is cuddled up to a little black kitty that is purring in his ear and shooting virtual hearts his way. He keeps saying “Mindy, this one is so nice. It’s purring at me.” But all I could see was that orange cat! It was like tunnel vision. So, here’s where I should have clued in…the employee couldn’t wrestle Robert into her arms long enough to bring him to me. He literally writhed and bucked like a bronco at a rodeo. At least you can explain a bronco’s behavior…he has a clamp on his nuts. Who wouldn’t writhe around? The Greenhill employee quickly offered up an excuse for Robert’s attitude. “Oh, he’s actually one of our sweetest, loveable cats. I think he’s just a little scared. He would be fine on his own.” And you know what? I bought it. Like a moron I say, “We’ll take him.” Jeremy looks at me, looks at the little black cat, looks at the overgrown orange one hissing in the corner and knows he’s been defeated.
We sign all the papers and in walks the employee carrying a box with what appears to be a dozen hissing snakes wrestling around inside a cat carrier. In actuality, it was Robert. The employees all look at each other with knowing glances and one says, “Oh, we’re going to miss Robert so much! He’s our buddy around here!” And I’m sitting there eating it up, willing myself to believe them. We rode home with Robert in the backseat, still boxed up because he was making sounds I’ve never heard come out of a living thing and quite frankly, we were a bit frightened. I kept looking over at Jer reassuring him how fine everything was and how great Robert was going to be. We got Robert home, let him out of the box, he disappeared and wouldn’t come out from under our bed for a week. And there has been the extent of our relationship except for a few harried moments where one of us was able to capture Robert and he proceeded to scratch the hell out of us.
And now? Now Robert lives next-door where I see him from time-to-time cuddled up with the neighbor on a quaint little whicker rocking chair. He’s living the life that I envisioned for us. Without me. I busted him out of cat prison and this is the thanks I get. And you know what is even more humiliating? He looks at me like he doesn’t even know who I am. Like I was but a cog in his machine of life, a moment of little to no consequence. A nobody. That little bastard.
So, a word to the wise. Do not enter into these arrangements lightly. Take some time and research your pet choice. And for God’s sake…don’t pick the orange one.
Love to all (except for Robert), Mindy
That was hilarious… I will have to have you sit down with my husband and comiserate! One of our puppies barks at him everytime he enters a room and growls at him everytime he comes near her or one of the kids…. i am sure he would have loved a chance to “pick differently” ….actually he did not have a chance to pick at all…he is totally ruled by a houseful of girls (two female puppies included!)….give him time, maybe your cat will come around,,,but I would not hold my breath!
keep up the good work, love reading your blog!
I hate your cat too, Aunt Mindy. Every time I’ve ever watched your house, Robert’s hissed and scratched me when I look at him. It was hard to put him outside. I almost had to get a pair of those thick leather raptor gloves.
Don’t you already have a pair of those for your falcon??
Nurse Sara says