Scat, Cat

Evidently one of the neighborhood cats is cattin’ around at night because there are pawprints all over my car.  I don’t so much mind having a dirty car because, well, my car is always dirty.  We don’ have a garage, so it doesn’t know any different. It’s usually spotted with all kinds of tree fallings and bird — well, you know.  What are a few pawprints going to hurt in the grand scheme of things?

Unless you’re talking about the Broadway  musical, I’m not especially fond of cats.  I don’t wish them any harm, but I’m just not a cat person.  My family wasn’t a cat family.  I grew up with dogs, and I never recall asking for a cat.  To me, having a cat was about as useful as having a doll.  (I wasn’t especially big on dolls, but that’s a whole ‘nother post.)

As far as I know, cats don’t really do anything.  You can’t take them out for a walk or a run.  They’re not particularly fun to take on Saturday afternoon errands.  And they’re awfully aloof.  My friend, Amy, had a cat for longer than the 10 years I’ve known her and I swear I don’t think I ever saw Huxley.  EVER.  He disappeared whenever strangers came to the house.  Another friend, Beth, has a cat that does the same thing.  I hear that a lot of cats do that.

And then there are the felines that do the opposite.

When I was a freshman in college, I was completely smitten with a young fellow who took me home with him one weekend.  I was to spend the night with his grandmother, one of the most charming southern ladies I’ve ever met.  When we got to her house late one Friday afternoon to drop of my bag and get acquainted, I was introduced to her very large and very beautiful Siamese cat, Sam.  Or Siam.  I couldn’t really tell what with our drawl and all, so we’ll just call him Sam.

So anyway, this fella and I left and had supper with the rest of his family who, by the way, had a dog — a cute little daschaund who ruled the roost, as nature intended, thank-you-very-much.  Not the vile animal who was waiting for me over the river and through the woods at grandmother’s house.

At the end of the night, the fella took me back to Grandma’s house and about the time we crept in the back door, Sam whizzed by us at about shoulder level doing about 84 miles-per-hour.  That cat scared us both half to death.  There was a bit of muffled cursing on the part of the fella, as I recall, not being a cat fan himself, but we finally got over the shock at having been nearly assaulted by the flying cat, said our goodnights, and he left for the safety of his parents’ house.  I was left to fend for myself.

Later that night, I climbed into bed and was almost asleep when I had that feeling of being watched. When I opened my eyes, that dang cat was sitting in the doorway, and before I could get up and close the door, he sprung up onto the bed.  I decided to make nice, seeing that I was a guest in his house.  I petted him and scratched him.  And then I picked him up and put him back on the floor.

Right.  Like that was going solve the problem.

He was back on the bed before I was fully stretched back out.  This went on several times until I finally shut the door.

That made it mad.  He started to meow.  Not wanting to wake Grandma and have her think me to be an ungrateful guest and find out that I really wasn’t fond of her wacked-out kitty, I opened the door.  And so it was to be that Grandma’s cat slept not only with me, but on top of me.  I remember lying in that bed with that cat perfectly balanced ON MY SIDE.  Stretched out, just as still as the night itself…except for the occasional I-am-not-going-to-let-you-go-to-sleep flick of his tail.  

I rolled over onto my stomach, and that cat walked around on my back before lying down across my shoulders and neck.  Maybe it was trying to suffocate me.  I don’t know.  At some point during what was one of the longest nights of my life, I finally fell asleep.  Or perhaps I passed out from the cat smell.  Either way, I woke up feeling like I’d been beaten within an inch of my life with a very furry object.

Grandma fixed a huge breakfast for the fella and me, and while we were sitting in the kitchen eating one of the most delicious meals I’ve ever eaten, in slinked that cat.  (Slinked is a word, right?  Let’s say it is.)  He padded over to a chair, hopped up, stretched out in the sunlight, and started to purr.

All in all it was a nice weekend, and I thought the world of the whole family.  By the time fall rolled around, however, the nice fella had dropped me like a hot potato.  I ‘ll admit that I was a bit crushed.  

But then one of my friends told me to look on the bright side.  “You’ll never have to see that cat again.”

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5 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Calista
    Dec 29, 2008 @ 01:56:29

    Not a cat person here either. My neighbors have one that runs wild, and likes to poop in my shrubs. It actually came in my garage and pooped a couple of months ago. HATE .IT!

    The girls and I spent the night at my husband’s aunt’s house last May, and she has three cats. One of which is possessed by the devil himself. I got up in the night to pee and I had to walk passed the staircase. That cat was waiting on the top stair. It was dark, did I mention he was solid black. I did NOT see him AT ALL. He hissed and reached his clawless paw out and slapped my leg. I swear I dribbled in my panties. I ran back into my room and held the rest of my pee until morning. Gross yes, but so true.

    Reply

  2. Melanie
    Dec 29, 2008 @ 02:52:21

    Now, see, I would have loved, loved, loved having the cat sleep with me like that. She really liked you – or you were in her bed – either one. Good thing she wasn’t still a kitten and went after your feet all night.

    My cat loves company, doesn’t fly, and plays just as good a game of fetch as any dog I’ve known – and frankly better than Apollo ’cause sometimes he doesn’t bring the toy back. Though she does occassionally like to slap people/animals with her clawless paw, especially if they are sitting on our dining room chair where one’s butt is accessible from the back. That wasn’t quite as funny when she still had her claws though.

    Yeah, I like the kitty cats – of course I wouldn’t want them pooping in my garage either. That’s just nasty.

    Melanie

    ************************************
    I agree. That pooping in the garage thing is awful. Poor Calista!

    Hope I didn’t offend the cat-lover in you, Melanie! 🙂

    Reply

  3. Kim H.
    Dec 29, 2008 @ 10:18:08

    How funny… I have to say that I’m not a huge cat person either – I’ve had them, and loved them… but I’ll take a dog before a cat any day. The only good cats are the ones that think they’re dogs anyway… I have a friend who has a cat that literally will greet you at the door like a dog. He’s cute, but in the end – I’ll take my puppies and be happier!

    Reply

  4. Tatersmama
    Dec 29, 2008 @ 15:49:03

    OMG… what ARE all you gals thinking? I’ll admit to liking dogs and have had plenty in my time, but give me a cat any day!
    I’m owned by 6 of ’em at the present time… although I think my Jazzy is reaching the end of her days and it’s going to break my heart when she goes.
    If you came to sleep at my house, there would be no worries about any of them sleeping with you, because they all have their favorite spots in their Mama’s bed. :o)

    Reply

  5. Lindsey Langhans
    Dec 30, 2008 @ 00:00:13

    I can so relate! I am so NOT a cat person! I adore dogs though! I had a cat as a young girl and it was the meanest thing ever! I vowed to never ever have a cate ever again! Oh..did I mention my mom got cat scratch fever from this cat!?! Yes, cat scratch fever is real..my mom was in the hospital for 5 days! soo…all this to say…I don’t like cats!

    Reply

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