Ok so where were we?
John and I have lived together for nearly four years now, and for the majority of that time we’ve wanted some sort of pet. A dog has always been our natural instinct since we both grew up with them, but we’ve never been able to fully convince ourselves to take on this endeavor. We like to go out, we like to travel, we don’t like waking up any earlier than we possibly have to, we don’t like walking in the cold and rain or picking up piles of crap off sidewalks, our apartment is too small for a non-yippie dog, we’re afraid of it barking and annoying our neighbors when we’re not home . . . basically, we don’t enjoy responsibility.
Cats really are the perfect pet for people who want some sort of cute, furry thing roaming around their place but are too lazy and commitment-phobic to take on a needy dog. Let me put it this way: dogs are like orchids – they’re good looking, perhaps bring more enjoyment to your life, but if you water them too little or too much, or give them the wrong amount of light, they will die. Very quickly. A cat is like a generic green plant. “Oh, it’s looking a little wilted – when was the last time you watered this?”, “Oh, I don’t know, three weeks ago? Hmm, maybe a month. Oh, actually, I think Thanksgiving.” And with a little watering: bam, back to life.
Clearly not ones to jump into anything we decided to first become foster parents to a cute cat named Emmy. This obviously not being a sufficient name for a pet, we’ve decided that her formal name shall be Cat Stevens, aka Yusuf Islam. As awesome as that is, Emmy is admittedly easier to say. We got her last weekend, and I’m not sure she has really accepted us yet. With a dog, all you have to do is show them attention and play with them for five seconds and they’re ready to sleep in your bed. Cats hide in the closet until . . . well, we’re still waiting. Intellectually I respect that, because I am much more “catlike” than a dog. I too am leery of people’s motives, not quick to trust, and generally want to be left alone and allowed to do whatever I want, whenever I want. Excitable, overly sociable, reliant doglike people tend to bother me.
But then again, I am an eye-rolling snobby beeyotch.
I’m sure we’re annoying her because we’re trying very hard to be nice when she does grace us with her presence, to play with her, to show her affection and that she’s safe with us, etc., and she is TOTALLY NOT RECIPROCATING. I now know how my parents must have felt when I turned 13. “Hi! How are you? How was your day?! How was school?! What are you thinking about?! How is that friend of yours?! Do you have any homework?!”, “No.” Door slam.
They probably asked themselves the same questions that we are now: “are we doing something wrong?” “Why does she hate us?!” “We just bought her this awesome toy and she is NOT even interested or grateful!” “Maybe she needs a psychiatrist!” “WHY IS SHE SPENDING ALL OF HER TIME IN THAT ROOM BY HERSELF?!” We’re, like, a day away from asking her if she’s on drugs.
But despite her general sulkiness, it’s been really nice to finally have a pet, to have something greet you at the door and to occasionally pet when she lets you. We don’t know how long we’ll have her at this point, but we have to remember to give her time to warm to us and we’ll see what happens. Besides, I am totally a sucker for someone who plays hard to get . . . just ask John.