fredericks: (Death Eater (from LJ Comm potterpuffs))
Damn my soft heart.

This morning the Fed Ex guy came by with a package. I opened up the door and the first thing I saw was a cat sitting in the walkway behind him. The cat wouldn't stay still, though; she'd get up and rub her body along the flower pots we have leading up to our doorway. I was amused. I asked the Fed Ex guy if it was his cat. He said no, and that the cat was probably looking for a free meal. He pulled off after delivering whatever it is in the little box he gave me and the cat, which I'd dubbed "Meow Mix", was still there showering kitty affection on our plants. I took the Fed Ex's guys words to heart and tried to look for something for Meow Mix to eat.

Now, I've been a dog owner for the last 8 years - the first thing through my mind was to offer Meow Mix some ham, but that seemed wrong. I pulled out some semi-stale bread and put it on the steps for Meow, who'd started feeling up the steps and the storm door. She (because I able to see she was definitively a she) sniffed it gamely and then looked up at me once before ignoring it entirely and going back to rubbing her body along everything in sight. We had no milk left in the house, so I then hit upon giving her some generic Ensure. Jackpot. Meow Mix lapped at that a couple of times.

By now I was envisioning having a cat in the house big-time. Meow Mix was so cute and meowy and all that good stuff. BUT I knew (and more or less know) that the cat cuteness and the body rubbing was just because it's nip-freezingly cold outside right now. See, cats are manipulative. Dogs, if they're hungry, will annoy you by throwing their bowl around, running around like idiots, and generally being a nuisance. Cats are slicker in that they maintain the cute: they'll meow plaintively and then rub your legs seductively. If they trip you while they twine around your legs, surely they don't mean you harm, right? (ha) I opened the screen door (making sure the door to the living room was closed securely) and coaxed Meow Mix to come inside. It took some calling, and I found myself giving her commands I'd give to Krishna, like "come!" ::patting my knee:: or "stay", given once Meow had stopped dicking around with rubbing herself on the storm door edge and had ventured into the porch. I forgot cats pride themselves on not following demands but do occasionally get off on spraying your home with urine. I shoo'd her back outside at that point and called my dad to ask him about the possibility of keeping a cat.

Predictably, he said no. All for the best, I guess. When I went back to the door to check for Meow Mix she'd long since fled, although not before finishing off the generic Ensure I'd left for her. The Fed Ex guy was dead on after all. I shrugged, sighed a little, and left the rest of the drink out for her. Maybe when I'm older and living all alone I'll have a number of cats after all. Then again, I might be afraid they'll rise up and kill me in my sleep if I go against them. Manipulative bastids.

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fredericks

October 2013

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