feline feelings

I am not a cat person.

That's a good thing; my landlord doesn't allow cats, not since the last owners let their cat treat the entire apartment as a litterbox, completely ruining most of the carpet and even leaving a permanent stain on the concrete beneath the closet floor.  Absolutely horrid!  We were asked to swear that we would never bring a cat into the apartment before signing the lease, and I found it easy to do so.  Unfortunately, the complex doesn't allow dogs, either (but pet rats are fine).

I had a cat growing up (in addition to a dog), and it wasn't a very pleasant experience.  Coco (Cocoa?) was an unfriendly, boring cat, a tabby with the personality of a narcoleptic starfish.  He occasionally tolerated being holding and petting, but never really enjoyed it; the only fun I ever had with him was throwing him from room to room and the time I put him in the dryer (it was just for a minute, and I didn't run it).  But he made me pay for it.  Oh, did he make me pay.

Coco(a) was a very hungry cat.  He would eat whatever he could find, and then some. We had to hide his food in extremely sneaky ways, because he figured out how to open doors to get at his treats.  Even after being fed, he would meow loudly to be fed again.  He was insatiable, and this was an inside cat!  It was terribly annoying.

He never get morbidly obese, but he was chunky, and somewhere along the way he picked up feline diabetes, as well.  Somehow, I got stuck with the task of sticking him with insulin every day, and I resented every second of it.  I don't have a problem with needles or anything, but I never even wanted that cat to begin with!  I understood the fundamental truth:  cats do not love us.  They barely even like us.  We're just lucky to be bigger than them.

When I got home today, the landing outside my apartment had a calico cat sitting there.  My downstairs neighbor has cats (different landlord, so she is permitted), and I figured it had just been let out into the landing, even though that was a first.  The cat was lazily slumped in a sunbeam (as cats tend to be), and regarded me with vague disinterest as I passed.  But when I got near my own door, the cat suddenly leaped up and moved straight for my door, meowing to be let in.

I couldn't let him in, and I don't have anything cats like, anyway.  But I could still hear him meowing outside my door, and he managed to move my cold, empty heart in some small way.  Guessing he may have accidentally been locked outside by his owner, I filled a bowl with some water and put it out on the floor for him.  He didn't seem very interested, but it was better than nothing.

Then I went back inside and was shocked to realize what I'd done:  I showed some kindness to a cat!  My greatest foe!  But, even though I resented Coco(a) every day for how I had to take care of him, I guess some part of me fell into the habit of taking care of cats that's never quite left.

Of course, I still have the habit of tormenting my friends' cats when they get too close, as well.  Some things never change.  But they never let me use their dryers...