I’m gonna go ahead and say that
our my cat is a little bit of a wedge between me and A. I brought her home as an act of defiance when my now husband and I had been dating for 5 years, I had moved across the country for him and we STILL weren’t engaged. I was exercising my independence. So one Spring day I brought home a sick, shaved, funky little thing from the shelter I had been working at.
“Well, we’re not engaged or married, so I don’t have to ask you about getting a cat for myself, do I?” With that kind of introduction, he pretty much disliked her from the start and I had set them up for failure.
I still don’t regret it one bit. I love my cat. She is the one, un-shared thing that I have in the whole world. Norman is mine (and A’s) but the outside world sees him and has access to him. The cat though, is a hidden treasure, just for me. She only comes out of dark corners in the house for me…meows when I call her name when no one else is around. Our nighttime trysts on my side of the bed bring me a comfort that I know I will miss when she is gone. She snuggles with only me which gives me a false sense of confidence. Most nights, I will wake up with her nestled into that little spot between the side of the bed and my body, totally unaware of her ever getting there. I will pull her in close to give her a little side hug. She will inevitably chirp her disapproval ’cause you know… she is a CAT. And I laugh and it’s ours. and it’s beautiful.
My husband scared her the first time that he saw her because he treated her like a puppy, and our theory is that she has been afraid of him and not really taken to him for that reason alone. It’s been 7 years. He takes it personally, and has always had a complete attitude problem towards her. He thinks she is lame. boring. too shy. not playful. pees on everything. all the time. (doesn’t) She will pee on stuff occasionally. BUT there is a formula. I know how to prevent it. I have passed my wisdom on to him. “Don’t leave a pile of clothes on the floor- Mia will probably pee on it. Cats like soft piles and tend to use them as bathrooms.” So what will happen is, he will ignore my advice, leave the pile there, she will pee on it and then I will somehow be stuck cleaning it up while he complains about her. Also, this has happened maybe twice in 7 years, but he tells the story as if it happens on a weekly basis, which really makes me mad. “You’re completely and unfairly misrepresenting her!!!” I always take her side. “I told you that she would probably do it, so don’t be mad at her, be mad at yourself. you asked for it” Yeah, he doesn’t like that.
She is scared of his big, loud footsteps. So am I. He is too loud. Too swift- everything he does seems to be with such purpose… can’t he just stand up from the couch like a normal person? I ask him to be less scary if she is around, after all she is a rescue and we don’t know what she went through in her past life. “I shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells for a CAT in my own house!” Now, I totally understand his point of view, but his execution- gah. huge turnoff. I want him to say, in a whisper, “Oh, sorry. Poor thing, I always do that! I can’t imagine how huge I seem to her. scarrry.” in my flippin’ dreams.
So on days like today, when I walk into the bedroom and see what I saw, I am happy. She and I have a secret. I don’t mind that I will have to clean it up myself and race to change the sheets before he gets home. It almost makes her human to me, as if she understands. It’s almost like she’s learned from me- as if she actually got her sass from… her mother.
When I see that she has puked all over his side of the bed and his side only, I look at her with a smile and say, “That’ a Good Girl!”