The bathroom door was open, and as I peeked around the corner, Muffin had claimed the porcelain god as her own.
It was clear.
This was Muffin’s house, and that was Muffin’s potty, and when she saw me, she profoundly … hissed.
One tally for the large white ball of fur.
Summoning my aunt to the situation (for after all, when you gotta go, you gotta go,) and she chastised Muffin.
“Be a nice kitty,” she said.
Muffin did not like me, and the feeling was mutual.
Cats were not my thing growing up. Years earlier, my family was living in a one horse motel, when I decided to “discipline” one of the stray cats in the parking lot, by spanking it with a wooden spoon on its bottom. Why, I do not know. I was spanked frequently (still a mystery to me, as I thought I was the perfect child, lol). Well, we know that did not go over well with said cat. Deep bite marks drew blood, and off to the ER we went for all the fun surrounding such an event.
I did not touch a cat again for a few years. One summer, I was with family at a family cabin on an Indiana lake, and wanted to give a neighbor’s cat a bath in the lake, as it was dirty.
I screamed. The cat screamed. And that was the last time I gave a cat a bath. Nails drawn in protest, my arm was all scratched up, and the cat took leave quickly.
“You can’t give a cat a bath!” my family said.
“They hate water.”
Well, decades passed, and my best friend talked me into getting a cat of my own. I loved her cat so much. Oreo is like a Princess, such a sweet grey tabby.
So we went to the Sheriff’s Office Animal Control adoption facility, where I met Molly. A street kitty, she was picked up behind a pizzaria. Although she tried to nibble me when I held her, I thought, I am going to confront my fears and follow through with this.
It took me a while to get used to her. Luckily, her short fur did not set off my cat allergies (long hair cats turn my face into a waterfall, complete with itchy eyes and headache.)
Molly liked climbing and pushing things off shelves, was always interested in what was for dinner, and delighted in kicking her mouse into the kitchen closet, while meowing loudly for me to fetch it. Clearly, I .. was her .. pet.
Welcome to the world of cats.
So I bought her toys, and read literature on Bengals (her breed). Discovered catnip could chill the afternoon and make her eyes look like the glow of a Woodstock hippie.
She loved pizza, chicken, bacon, and despised hot dogs and corn chips.
And the fidget spinner kept her busy for hours.
I have since learned how to hold her so I get my snuggles, and every morning, she morphs into a lap kitty.
Muffin. Strays. Molly.
I love her like she is a child, and her purring is the best.
Have a good day all. By the way, Ralph (my beta fish) says hellooo.