First let me apologize for being absent for so long. I will be trying to post every week again. There is so much to say, after all!
Two new heartbeats
My whole life I have hated cats. I didn’t really see the purpose of owning one. You couldn’t walk them and get exercise. They couldn’t protect you from intruders. They didn’t rush the door, just happy you were home. And the fact that they dug around in a litter box and then walked on your tables and counters gave me the heebie jeebies.
Basically, no unconditional love was going to be showered on me from a cat.
How was I to know, that I would fall for someone with two of them. Since my fella lives with me, and since I am no monster, I really couldn’t ask him to get rid of his two little bundles of joy. So, one day in moved a cat box, cat food, litter, water fountain and two fur balls trapped in a suitcase for transportation.
I had met them before, of course, at his house. I had really never paid them much attention, except to note that there was hair everywhere. They didn’t bother me, I didn’t bother them. What you don’t acknowledge can’t hurt you, right?
L to R Karma, Bodhisattva (Bodhi)
But, then they moved in. Yep, hair was everywhere. Yep, the litter box does smell and needs to be changed more often than a man would ever change the litter box. Yep, they need to be fed. Yep, they wake me up in the middle of the night demanding this food, whether we feed them at night before bed or in the morning when we wake up. Sometimes, they have food and just feel like waking me up. Does the fella wake up? NO. Possibly he is a heavier sleeper or just possibly, the cats don’t walk up and down his body, using their cute little nails to pierce the skin on your fingers to get your attention. Whatever the reason, I am the one waking up.
Here is where the shocker comes in folks…I have grown to
love them. Especially one. Karma. She comes and sits with me when I am at the
computer in the morning. She crawls in my lap and purrs as I pet her, trying to
type at the same time. It is adorable. Even with my pants covered in hair from
her little feces feet, I can’t help to want her to come to me every morning. In
fact, when she doesn’t, I am sad. Right now, she is “killing” a yarn toy,
making a huge mess and I can’t help but smile.
