I'm talking, of course, about my cat, Mau-be.
I feel that it's time I fully introduce you to the love of my life. I am single, and I have a cat. I am not the cat lady. Despite the fact that I call him (and sometimes hold him like) my baby, he is not a substitute for a child. I will tell stories involving him when others are talking about their kids, but that's because I can only talk about what I know, and that would be life with him.
(Ok, I'm sure you're thinking "the lady doth protest too much," but I want to make it perfectly clear. This is not a "look at my kitty he's the best kitty in the world" post. This is an introduction to a character who will pop up from time to time in my posts. He's totally not my child-subsitute. I didn't even like it when they gave him my last name at the vet. Too weird.)
So, I got Mau-be from a friend at work who had taken in a pregnant cat. The interesting thing is I was supposed to get a different kitten, but his girlfriend offered it to a friend of hers the same day that he offered it to me. Mau-be, formerly "GT," was supposed to be the one kitten they kept, until he was informed by his landlord that he couldn't have more than one cat. So it turned out I was to get a kitten after all.
The funny thing is, I was allergic to cats at the time.
But I had hope, because while I was allergic to the
I used to think I was allergic to cats because when I was young and I would go to the farm that our family friends' parents owned, I would run after all the kittens and squeeze the poor little things much too tightly (I was like 4, what did I know?) and the allergy was my payback. I think God decided to set that record straight, however, because after about a week of itchy, sneezy agony of having a cat, something just clicked and I was ok. Like, I can rub my face in his belly and not sneeze ok. Like, clearly no major allergies ok.
When I got Mau-be I was told I could rename him to anything I wanted, as long as it wasn't Shadow or Blackie or Midnight. I had just, coincidentally, finished reading a book about the Vietnam War, and it happened to include some Vietnemese words. "Mau," onomatopoetically enough, means "cat." "Mau-be," then, means "big cat," or tiger. I spent a few days trying it out but in the end those golden eyes got me and I knew he was my tiger.
He was also the most leggy cat the vet had ever seen. Do you see that in the picture up there? Pretty amazing. I think it's good though, 'cause he tries so very hard to get fat and the long legs help him look thinner. (Yes I like to give my cat issues. Deal with it. I also feed him people food.)
The day after I got Mau-be I had an evening Bible study, so I wasn't home for about 14 hours. The poor little guy had to fend for himself away from his mom, in a brand new place all alone. I felt wretched the whole time. And then when I got home he was sitting right in front of the door, ever so relieved that I had returned through the magic hole in the wall. So now that I've also given him separation anxiety, he meets me at the door every night. Well, sometimes he tends to saunter past it as though he just happened to be in the vicinity, but I know he's been waiting for me. But if I leave him alone for a weekend (I sooo love how you can do that) he gets especially clingy the day I come home.
One of the big downsides to my new life of never being at home, besides not ever doing the dishes, is that the poor guy really doesn't get a lot of attention any more. Since I have been coming home and sitting down at the computer, he's decided that his new favorite place is my desk. Conspicuously so. I call this one "Cat and Mouse."
And even when I'm actively using the computer:
It's just so cute I can't hardly kick him off. He also has mastered the fine art of sleeping balanced between my chest and the desk. I really don't know how or why he does it, but if it keeps him from sitting in the hallway and mewling piteously until I throw things at him, then have at it. (I would have shown you a picture, but do you know how hard it is to take a photo of yourself with a cat draped over your torso whilst sitting at the computer and you can only use your cell phone because you can't actually reach the camera because of the kitty? Yeah, that didn't really happen.)
Ironially now that I'm writing all about him, he's stretched out on the couch, ignoring me completely. Oh well, he wouldn't be a cat if he didn't. And I still love him. He is, after all, the only man who waits eagerly at my door for me to come home.