Wednesday, July 18, 2007
a dog lover in a cat's world
This is about the same spot where my previous attempts at blogging failed. I'd start out trying to pour out the (many) years of history in order to 'get acquainted' and then let the chit-chat begin. Only life, (ie mowing lawn, fixing car, laundry, grocery, visiting friends...) invades and/or I run out of ideas. (pregnant pause while I try to think of an idea, scanning around the room as if some until now never thought of topic leaps out at me. Of course what does happen is I see that the office needs cleaning again. (how does it get so messy when it is just me and the two mock dogs. (Stray cats that understand that I am actually a dog person and so they have done a pretty remarkable job of mimicking dogs, or at least they did long enough for me to grow attached to them) I was a 'we' when S came along. Some neighbor came by claiming they had 'found a kitten' and wanted to know if it was ours. I knew my x wanted a cat and so told the neighbor if no one else claimed it we would take her. I'm pretty sure all the neighbor did was go down the stairs, count to 30 and then come right back up. Somehow between then and the divorce the x had grown more attached to our dog and when she moved back home her parents only allowed her one pet. Something about the fact she had brought untold number of pets home with her. She felt badly about S being 'alone' so her last gift to me was another stray, W. W still believes she is a dog, she is constantly underfoot, I have nearly killed both of us stepping back from the refrigerator and nearly tripped over her. I always thought cats were graceful but W will strut into a room and literally throw herself down on one side, at times sounding like she has knocked the breath out of herself. They know that on weekends I am often away, carrying on with as many as three K9s at once, tossing them sticks, taking them on walks, bathing them, having them rest their muzzle in my lap while I gently stroke their head and yes, even spending my own money to buy them treats and something akin to dog ice-cream. Each Sunday evening I return home, with the scent of an Airedale or a pair of Snauzchers, or if I visit my folks, two Bostons. I do feel a twinge of guilt when I hear W wailing as the garage door closes behind me and I ascend the stairs. They both give me a deep gaze, boring through to my very soul and I have to turn away. Only then do I notice the blond, or gray, or black &/or white hair on my shirt, or notice the distinct smell of an often retrieved twig on my hand. But they always forgive me and after restocking their food and water as I lay down to sleep W will hop on the bed and throw herself against my left side while S will spend two minutes on the headboard looking down at me before taking her spot at the right foot of the bed. So we all three drift off to dreamland. Chances are they dream of having some true cat lover but if they do harbor any resentment they hide it very well.