Cat: Woman’s Best Friend

So I’ve been reading my posts, and most of them are about my writing. Understandable. My writing is my life, maybe even more than it should be? I don’t know. I think it’s a good thing to be attached to your job, right? But anyway, I just wanted to prove that I do have a life outside of my computer.

I’m not very social. Never was, especially in school. My best friend from childhood moved down to California a few years ago, and we only see each other every few years now, which sucks. I miss her. And I spend a lot of my time at home writing, while my mom is out at work. My best friend right now is probably my overwhelmingly hairy cat, Mike.

Ok, so dogs are okay. But… why don’t we start cheering for cats more? See, dogs love you no matter what, so long as you feed them. They’re excited when you get home, and are always up for playing. Great! If you like the easy way (:P).

I’ve met a lot of dog people who seem to think of cats as… standoffish? Cold? Snobby? And I get it. I really do. But, it feels like you work harder for their affection. Doesn’t hard work mean it feels better once you actually get it?

And there is no better feeling in the world than a snuggly kitty curled up next to you while you work. My cat likes to sit at the foot of my bed as I write, staring at me. It can get creepy, but he’s sweet. Most of the time. Then he decides he wants attention and tries to climb into my lap while I’m writing.

Mike, I love you, but I can’t work through you. And I don’t have the heart to lock him out of the room or shove him off, so I usually just wait until he leaves on his own terms. Not exactly efficient, but I’m a softie.

I first got my cat when I was… thirteen? Fourteen? Somewhere in there. My mom got home from work late one day and called me down to help. I thought she’d got groceries on the way home or something, but nope!

Mike, or Mikey as we like to call him when he’s not being annoying. Hairiest cat I’ve ever seen in person. I could tape a long handle to him and use him as a duster (don’t think he’d like that, though). I was kind of surprised, because a) my mom just brought home a real, live cat after years of saying we had to wait and settling for stuffed animals, and b) she got such a hairy, male cat.

I’d been wanting a cat since I was a little kid. I had pictures and posters of cats all over my childhood bedroom walls, and I had tons of pet books. The only pet I’d ever had before Mike was a tank of fancy goldfish (the kind that look like they have bubble heads, I can’t remember what they’re called). Mom always said that she wanted a short-haired, female cat if we ever got one, because females are less aggressive (I think?), and less hair = less allergies. I didn’t care; I just wanted something fuzzy that purred without a battery.

Then she totes this hairball tomcat home, and he’s surprisingly friendly and curious. The pet store warned us that he would probably just run off and hide for a few weeks at first, but nope. He climbed out of the little carrier (bigger than a kitten but still not an adult cat yet) looked around, and settled in.

Weird cat.

But I guess it made sense. I wasn’t actually there when my mom picked him up, but she told me the story. A whole bunch of cats, all calm and sleepy in their little… tanks? Whatever you call those things in the pet stores. But Mikey was so unhappy there. There were dogs on leashes, because it was a pet supplies store as well. And little kids. And strangers. And Mikey was curled up tight in the corner, doing that thing where they try to act like they’re smaller than they are. But he was a good, friendly kitty, and the people there said he didn’t do well with other pets or young kids (neither of which we had).

And he needed a home so badly, that mom brought home my best friend in the world.

And the weirdest thing is that my mom didn’t want a long-haired cat because of her allergies. And guess what: she isn’t allergic to Mike. I don’t know if she’s not allergic to cats after all, or if it’s just our cat.

Pets are family. Sure, they may have four legs (or more, if you’re into tarantulas *shudder*), they may bark/meow/glub/squeak/tweet/[insert-animal-noise-here], and do absolutely nothing to bring home money, but they’re still there. They’re like… kids that never really grow up, if that makes sense?

I’m an animal girl, even if I am a little biased towards cats. Tell me about any pets you have, or want to have.

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