It’s sometimes difficult to figure out who’s the pet and who’s the owner when you have a cat. I’ve been looking after the beasties cat for the last week or so and she’s under no illusion as to who’s the pet here and it certainly isn’t her. Consequently I’ve had to adjust my routine to suit her, this involves being awake all bleeding night as she goes absolutely crazy chasing pretend mice around the flat. On the first night I thought I had burglars – albeit very amateurish burglars – as I could hear most of my kitchen being re-arranged as she investigated everything. I normally go to bed sometime after 11pm and that’s just the time she decides her day is about to start. I’ve been lying in bed comatosed only to have her suddenly jump on and off me and attack a shadow on the wall. The sound of claws slowly scraping down my bedroom wall at 4 in the morning could be termed under The Geneva Convention as a cruel and unusual torture. And as for actually reading a book, well, that’s totally out of the question as she places herself between me and my novel.
Someone once wrote that cats are put here on earth to remind us humans that there are higher forms of life than humanity but I think cats are put here on the earth to scare the be’jesus out of me. I have woken up most mornings from my slumber with her staring deep into my eyes from two inches away; who needs coffee, that certainly jump-starts your heart first thing in the morning! The other morning I woke up and was relieved to discover that she wasn’t staring at me from the required two inches maximum. I sat up to start thinking about my day and I nearly shat myself as a furry paw tapped me on the shoulder, she had been balanced precariously on my bed headboard obviously just waiting all night for me to wake up and pull that trick on me. I’m sure she tells her cat friends and they all have a good laugh before scheming more ways to scare the be’jesus out of me. Not only that but I think she’s in some secret cat competition to see if she can stand on the most difficult surface, the other morning I found her balanced on top of the radiator, this isn’t a flat topped surface but a hard sharp edge with only two inches between it and the wall, she was standing on it looking at me and I couldn’t decide if the look on her face said “Ha! You thought I couldn’t get up here!…foolish human!” or “Yelp!”
I also think she is in a competition to see just how far she can kick the cat litter out of the tray, it’s said that feet are the most perfect instruments for finding bits of Lego on the floor during the middle of the night, I think one can add cat litter to that, crunching on your way to the bathroom is not fun, it’s like doing one of those fire walks in the dark. I fed her this morning as she hovered around her bowls pointing at her mouth and rubbing her tummy in the universally recognised motion to feed me and feed me now before I collapse in hunger, so I put some food in her dishes and she immediately turned her nose up at it, walked over to the trash and started licking the black plastic sack hanging over the edge. What was she trying to tell me, that she will only eat ?Sheba. Or is it just to torment me? In some of the early James Bond movies the evil mastermind was always seen stroking a cat whilst laughing at 007 caught in his clutches, personally I think it’s the cat who’s the evil mastermind directing his fiendish plot, I feel like I’ve become a bit actor from Cats & Dogs.
However, what’s really interesting is how quickly I have become invisible. I collected the beasties last night and after nearly a week of constant (albeit nocturnal) attention I have now become persona non grata, I don’t exist any more, it’s like there’s a pecking order and when I am here by myself then I have to provide her entertainment but once the beasties appeared then I was dropped like a hot potato.
Give me teenagers any time, they are much easier to manage.