Monday, June 9, 2008

Well at least the cat understands me...

Well, okay, technically it’s my wife’s cat but I sneak him treats (against doctor’s orders) on occasion because I’m just that kind of guy. No, not the kind that wants bad things to happen to my wife’s cat, but the kind of guy that doesn’t always play by the rules. And he (the cat that is) loves me for it. I’m the first up in the morning and he comes up to me and head butts me in the shin, damn near knocking me over (he’s a Maine Coon – kinda beefy) and he knows what’s in store. A little sliced turkey or roast beef or if I’m making tuna fish sandwiches, an orgasmic hunk of tuna. I can see it in his twinkling eyes. Nirvana time. I’m gonna get treats from the dorky guy that sits for hours at his computer as I watch him, thinking, what a dolt, why doesn’t he just take a nap in the sun?

Okay, the cat doesn’t get the whole writing gig. But he knows how to have fun. I’m usually the last to bed (being a writer means some odd hours) and I fear turning off the lights before retiring. Why? Because the darkness is his friend. He loves to hide behind the sofa and attack me as I walk down the hall to the bedroom. I’m half asleep and this furry missile comes out of the dark and hits me full on, staggering me. I curse softly at him (don’t want to wake my wife – the cat is bad enough) but I have to grin too. He’s a trickster. He’s loves to play. He even loves to play fetch like a puppy. He loves life. And I love him for it.

So there is a bond between the cat and me. I’m not a cat or dog guy per se – but I do like animals. And like I said, I do love this cat. He gets it. He gets that life should be fun. That no matter how many times you attack the dork as he trundles off to bed, it’s fun. Yep. Scaring the crap out of the half-asleep guy is fun. I can imagine him curling up at the foot of the bed thinking, I got him good tonight. And I get turkey in morning. Life is good.

Okay, maybe he doesn’t understand why I write instead of nap, but I think he gets me just as I get him. We are simpatico that way. We get life. Life should be fun. That treats are okay in moderation. That sneak attacks are fun – if no harm is done. That life is good. Yeah, at least the cat understands me.