This is true. I can be wearing socks during the colder months and when I wake up, I’ll find them (or not). I used to think I was losing my mind, until I caught my British Bombay pulling a sock off with her teeth, jumping off the bed, and running off with it. I went back to sleep and she got the other sock at some point. Now, I try to sleep so she can’t reach them, but if I walk past her, she’ll still try to get them. The rest of mine absolutely get stolen by the dryer.
Hope your Caturday didn’t involve a beagle who won’t stop barking. If the neighborhood cats got a hold of him, they’d find out some humans hiss too. 😉
One tried to throw me out of bed this morning by jumping on my head and then marking my entire body, as though I am the official leader of the cat pack. The other one ignores me, unless I come bearing treats. I’m still wearing her scars from a few weeks back. It’s easy to tell which one appreciates me the most. 😉
Full credit goes to the artist.
It’s been a rough week. At times, Kitten was my saving grace, curling up next to me to sleep and keep an eye on me. When I rested after my procedure, she didn’t disturb me, as she is wont to do. She often jumps up at my head and scares the shit out of me with her silence. Even if I wasn’t able to sleep, she was hanging out with me. Cat has only shown interest in me today, when I offered up fresh catnip.
If you aren’t a cat owner, I can’t explain the bond of raising kittens (which is what builds trust), but it’s amazing and such a good life lesson. My cats go where I go. That’s always been my rule.
As I approach the 13th anniversary of losing my first (owned solely by me) cat, I feel terrible. She is buried at a small pet cemetery out of state (Obviously, since I’m not from Massachusetts and haven’t lived here that long.), and I have not been back. It’s so painful, and completely breaks my heart. I’ve been reliving her last moments over the past few days and it has nearly killed my soul, at times. I lost her sister over five years later, during an awful time in my life, and when finally given no choice at all, I went against my core beliefs and had her cremated. Her ashes are with me. She is the photo on my laptop screen and the everlasting love I have in my heart. The only thing I have left of her are some photos on my camera, and all the memories of adopting her and loving her right up until she took her last breath. They leave this plane of existence, but they truly do stay with you.
Kitten is her namesake (Her real name is translated out of Old Norse and Hebrew.). My amazing cat, who chose me, taught me how to be a mother, how to love, how to be patent with animals and small children, and she loved me probably as much as Kitten does. They are similar in some ways, with Kitten being less gentle, but I will always have a Tortoiseshell by my side. They are a color, not a breed, but they have these unique personalities and spirits that let me know I was probably once a cat. Kitten was meant to be mine, just as Cat was meant to go home with me and keep me honest with myself.
Today is the first Saturday in a while where I’ve embraced, “Caturday”. I didn’t wake up early and rush out anywhere. I’m hanging out in sweats and a t-shirt, and they are enjoying the sun and bird watching. It’s a low-key afternoon. I’m contemplating whether to cook or order in. The mourning doves are cooing. But I still remember my first “Cat and Kitten” with all my heart. I made promises to them and I kept them, and I made the same promises to these two characters.
They ARE family. Even when they torture me at 4:00 a.m. or harass me for treats an hour after they were given treats. They’ve been happier, a lot more playful, less stressed out, and more affectionate since recovering from the trip to the “evil vet”. 😉 She’s not evil at all, but I know it’ll go better when I can go in with them. They really don’t like not being with me. Dogs have their place, but when a cat is waiting for you at the window or the door, it’s not because they’re trained to do so. Nope. It’s one hundred percent their choice. That individuality is one of the things I love most about cats, but when I see mine waiting for me, it makes me smile. Even if only for a brief moment.
copyright © 2021 by Lisa Marino & Poison In Lethal Doses, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
I laugh because my cats stand like statues a lot, and would try this if I hadn’t trained them as kittens not to get onto the kitchen counters or the dining room table. I freak out if they’re anywhere near the stove, so they seem to remember my reaction, unless they’re trying to test me, and then I do catch them. Some of their, “testing” is actually cat curiosity, more than anything else.
I’m highly impressed with the cat’s posture. Little feet on the plate… I can’t stop laughing.
For the record, I trained my cats, as kittens, NOT to go on the dining room table or the kitchen counters, and they’re generally good about listening because I made it a mandatory thing. Occasionally, I’ll catch them testing me when they don’t think I’ll find out about it. Felines trying to get away with things is the story of my life. 😉
My cats have decided I’m merely a person who feeds them and rewards them for existing with expensive treats, which they think they should receive every few hours, so long as I’m working and they can annoy me. And they’ve taken to jumping on my head and screeching if they aren’t fed by 8:00 a.m.
As I type this, they are both standing near a mostly closed door, peeking in on me. If I move, so do their heads. This goes on for hours. I’ve become human furniture that requires regular cat spies. Next time, I’m ordering cuddly cats.