My relationship with cats has not always been a merry one. In fact, a recent conversation with a friend in the back of class summed up my entire relationships with the species. We were discussing the approaching Valentine’s day and she was commenting that:
“I’m always going to be alone. It’ll just be me and my eighty-seven cats.”
“Wow, you really like cats that much?” I asked.
“Well, I really like the idea of cats.”
“The idea of cats?”
“Well sure, I mean all the cats I’ve ever owned have been Satan with fur, but I like the idea of cats, with soft fur, and whiskers, that cuddle, and purr.”
“You know,” I said. “I feel exactly the same way.”
Growing up, I had two lovely cats. A really fat tabby that at one point in my young life weighed more than I did, and a sweet black cat named Whoopi (after Whoopi Goldberg of course). Then there was Stinker, the cat very aptly named. She was vicious, but we’re not sure if that was due to a personality defect or because she had the kitty form of schizophrenia. Whatever the case, she liked to pee on everyone and everywhere. All. The. Time.
After these three cats went to feline heaven, we decided to adopt a cute, seemingly harmless stray cat that a friend had found. He was a scrawny little black kitten with a high-pitched meow. We named him Felix. A more proper name for him would have been Lucifer.
Felix has a habit of chasing everyone around and biting their ankles. Hard enough to draw blood. At first we were optimistic. “Oh look at this kitten, he’s just playing.” *insert nervous laughter*
But as he grew older. It. Did. Not. Stop.
This cat is also an escape artist. We have found him on the front porch. In the back yard. In the garage. When all doors and windows have been safely sealed. We still don’t know how he does it.
The most accurate description of Felix I can give is Toothless the dragon from the beginning of Dreamworks recent film “How to Train Your Dragon”. Like Toothless the dragon, Felix can be nice, and cuddly, and protective, but take one wrong step and his pupils dilate, his tail twitches, his fur bristles, and suddenly it’s like someone has opened a gateway to Hell.
Not to say that Felix can’t be nice. We snuggle– when it suits him. And it’s extremely funny to watch him bash himself against windows in an attempt to chase snowflakes or birds (he’s also not the brightest cat). Also, as most things either found in the North Face store or like all wolves in sheep clothing, he is so. flipping. soft.
I have tried to be friends with Felix, really I have. I’ve bribed him. I’ve tried to bond with him. But my attempts to wrestle him into loving me have often turned into him viciously biting my arm while I scream “WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME ANYMORE?”
Perhaps the one person who was initially indifferent to our newest family member was my twin brother. The indifference did not last long. Felix, it seemed, took a liking to George, even though George was the one member of the family who often tormented Felix, pushed him around, and chased him into bathrooms when Felix misbehaved. As much as George bothered him– Felix never. bites. George.
Perhaps it is some sort of perceived social hierarchy, like George claims dominance over Felix and so Felix perceives George to be the Alpha-male. Or maybe Felix is too scared to mess with him. Whatever the case, the two have bonded, and whenever Felix decides to use me to sharpen his treacherous little teeth it has become my common response to scream “GEORGE! COME GET YOUR CAT!”
And so, my friend’s theory is proven. I very much happen to like that abstract idea of cats. Whether or not I like my cat is a different story. But since he’s the only cat I have. And since some days he decides he likes me enough to not attempt to assassinate me for the moment– my hope that someday he’ll turn into a real cat has not vanished. Though he may bite me, and hiss at me, and lunge at my face, and eat my pizza. He’s still my cat. And he’s the only one I’ve got. So until then I say “Well Felix, I love you, you little devil-spawn you. Until you bite me. Then I shut you in the bathroom until George rescues you.”
But, since he is my one and only cat. I’ll just have to take what I can get.
Just some musings from a Little Lady 😉