I am not a cat person!
In fact, I am not really a pet person because life is busy but if I
decided I was ready for a pet it would be a dog. My husband is the exact
opposite, loving and enjoying all animals. We have had dogs—they adored my
husband and tolerated me. We have inherited a cat from our daughter. He also
adores my husband and tolerates me. I try to be friendly. If my husband is out
I will feed and talk to him. But mostly we keep a respectful distance from each
other as I definitely don’t do cuddles! His original name was Stitch when he
came to live with us as a kitten. As he grew older he grew fatter as our
neighbour couldn’t resist feeding him tidbits. So Stitch became Fat Cat.
Fat Cat is old now, arthritic and much skinnier. He spends a
lot of time lying around inside in the warm and communing volubly with my
husband. He has commandeered my husband’s work jersey and my husband hasn’t the
heart to take it off him. He finds the best and most comfortable spots, has
grown very picky about what he will eat and definitely rules the roost.
He spots an open door and quickly finds a comfy spot on one
of the beds—it drives me crazy! He eyes up the lounge furniture with a view to
curling up on a chair when he thinks I am not looking. A firm no from me and I
get the evil eye. He waits until the airing cupboard door is open and sneaks in
behind the hot water cylinder.
He would have nothing to do with me for weeks after I
tripped over him. Apparently it is perfectly normal to stretch out in front of
a doorway when I am about to walk through it carrying a wash basket in my arms.
He sulked for days when he tried to push ahead of me into the house and I
dropped the house keys on his head.
When my daughter visits Fat Cat rules. He climbs up on the
lounge suite and curls up with her. She visits with him first while I wait my
turn.
If I protest, I am reminded “He is one of God’s creatures.”
How do I argue with that?
Oh well, I guess I didn’t really want all that steak for
dinner. You might as well go ahead Fat Cat.
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