My Miso, My Self
A few months ago David decided to go home and visit his Mother for the evening. During the jaunt to his old stomping grounds his Mother confessed she could no longer care for his cat and asked him if he would like to take puss puss (not her real name) home. Here. To my home. I know I should type our home - it's just that when the phrases "adopt", "taking care of", "feeding", "grooming", and the ugliest of them all, "litter box" are thrown my way, I tend to twitch and become defensive about sharing my space. Just ask David how I reacted when he tried to "surprise" me with a rearranged living room. The bathroom door is still not hinged correctly.
I remember thinking I hated cats. I reminded myself how much I preferred the company of humans. Or other people's dogs. Or dried, dyed, and scented tree bark in a pretty bowl on one of the two perfectly placed pleather (looks great at a fraction of the cost) ottomans.
After a lengthy phone conversation and a thousand reassurances it would be fine if I said no, I caved and said I'd try to live with the cat now known as Miso.
Miso was introduced to me after an hour long car trip tomy our home and promptly returned my greeting by relieving herself on the sofa. In three places. While running from me.
I glared at David's Mother and through a very forced smile said, "It'll be fine. Just fine."
I prayed she didn't notice the vein popping out of my neck.
Miso settled in and hid for two days. Come to think of it, so did David.
As I noted earlier, it's been about two months now and I've changed the way I feel about Miso. Miso has changed her ways as well.
I can't leave the room without her trailing two feet behind. She paces the bathroom and peeks in at me while I shower. She watches me brush my teeth, make coffee, and dress for work. She sleeps at my feet. She watches Desperate Housewives and Heroes (two screen interactive yes I'm a geek shut up) with me. She completely adores me, and I her.
She's small, stylish, and goes great with black; she's the perfect accessory I never knew I needed.
I remember thinking I hated cats. I reminded myself how much I preferred the company of humans. Or other people's dogs. Or dried, dyed, and scented tree bark in a pretty bowl on one of the two perfectly placed pleather (looks great at a fraction of the cost) ottomans.
After a lengthy phone conversation and a thousand reassurances it would be fine if I said no, I caved and said I'd try to live with the cat now known as Miso.
Miso was introduced to me after an hour long car trip to
I glared at David's Mother and through a very forced smile said, "It'll be fine. Just fine."
I prayed she didn't notice the vein popping out of my neck.
Miso settled in and hid for two days. Come to think of it, so did David.
As I noted earlier, it's been about two months now and I've changed the way I feel about Miso. Miso has changed her ways as well.
I can't leave the room without her trailing two feet behind. She paces the bathroom and peeks in at me while I shower. She watches me brush my teeth, make coffee, and dress for work. She sleeps at my feet. She watches Desperate Housewives and Heroes (two screen interactive yes I'm a geek shut up) with me. She completely adores me, and I her.
She's small, stylish, and goes great with black; she's the perfect accessory I never knew I needed.
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