The Cats: part one.

I have decided that the Internet needs to be made aware of The Cats in our lives. I'm not sure why, but when you're awake at 2am and can't go back to sleep, some odd topics become suddenly viable. go figure.

So, for your reading pleasure, and just so that you can fully appreciate the view from this window on our world, I give you The Leike.

I adopted Leike from a shelter early in 1998. She was the runt of her litter and had some health problems when I got her. She and her 5 siblings were crammed into this tiny crate together so when I took her home I just wanted her to be free (and yes, that's my inner-hippy speaking) so I never really confined her. The problem with this is that it means I also never really socialized her.

I adopted her after getting out of a miserable relationship. So miserable that I didn't date anyone for 5 years until I met the man who became The Husband. My parents used to joke that I was one failed relationship short of 32 cats. The Leike had some kind of rough life before she and I took to one another. I don't ask and she doesn't tell, but judging from her behavior at times it wasn't pleasant.

When I brought her home she fit in the palm of my hand. She was tiny. And now she's 16 pounds of chicken. I used to say that she was my bulimic cat because she, occasionally, eats too quickly and then vomits her chewed up food on to whichever surface she happens to be standing on. Yes. It is disgusting, and the fact that I continue to clean it up and not throw her out of the window is a testimony of my sincere affection for this animal.

She slept at my feet on my bed for years. Every night for years. She still does occasionally, but now that she's a bit older she prefers her own space when she sleeps. She hates change and her favorite toy is a tiny foil ball that smells suspiciously of Hersey kisses. She loves flannel and fleece with a love that dare not speak its name.

She's not the kind of cat who panders to people. She's dignified. Refined. I introduce her as my European cat. She doesn't feel the need to stoop to our gregarious and unsavory American ways. She is happiest sitting on the highest part of her post and surveying the world with disdain. She HATES loud noises of any kind, and when there is continuous loud noise, she seeks refuge on top of the refrigerator. Or sometimes the cabinets.

Four years ago, I went to the shelter seeking a companion for The Leike. I was gone all day in classes and such and I felt bad for her in our big brown apartment all alone. So I brought home The Agnes. The Agnes was a very small kitten with issues of her own. I do not think that Leike appreciates the intentions behind this bequest.

She's what most people call a "one-person cat." Meaning, I suppose, that she likes one person and no other. I suppose I had always believed this to be true, and that I was the "one person" she cared for. But then if this is true, then The Husband has quite won her away from me.

They have this very intense (at times) love-hate relationship. When they love each other, nothing is funnier than the two of them mauling one another. But when they hate? there will be squawking and howling and inevitably Leike will end up soaking wet and scowling at the World from on high. Generally, they love each other. Please don't call PETA on our disciplinary techniques.

The Leike is now a dignified and sleepy elderly cat. Well, on the beginning of the elderlies. She's not as bold as she used to be. Instead of on top of the refrigerator, she more often than not hides behind the futon. Or under the dining room table which isn't really hiding because we can all still see her and she can see us and it doesn't shelter her from any noise, light, or action.

I tell you all of this because she is my friend. More than a friend, she is part of our family. And theoretically, this blog is to serve as a window on our world. I find it comical when people blog about the woes that their cats are. But for my part, she's worth the woes.