“Certain things, they should stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone.”
― J. D. Salinger "The Catcher in the Rye"
Change came to our house in the form of a hairy little beast. It wasn't our choice. Claudette's son was going on a trip and he asked us to take care of his cat for a week. She has been here more than a year.
Sometimes it's hard to tell if WE have adopted IT or IT has adopted US! Whatever has happened, the routines of life have changed with her arrival.
Firstly, let me say that Lea, for that is the princess', name, is not an ordinary cat. Her long and varied life in animal shelters, and different houses have given her quirky, often bizarre habits. She gives new meaning to the phrase "jumpy as a cat" and is so shy with strangers that when we have visitors she will disappear for hours or until all those strange to our house have gone. She has a new litter box with the most up to date, scientifically proven, especially designed gravel and sand material--but, she refuses to use it and would rather go to the garden, even in the most cold, rainy days, and do her "business" there.
She has decided to eat just one type of food and Claudette, who seems to think that cats are like French people, and that they love variety and luxurious gourmet food, has brought her stuff made by the fanciest cat-food brands in the market--all of which Lea has proceeded to vomit as soon as she eats them. So, much to Claudette's chagrin, Lea will eat ONLY one type of dry, pellet-like cat food.
But, all of these little, strange habits are tolerable and I write them up to the legendary finickiness of cat as a species. Where things begin to get nasty is when she decides where SHE wants to take her naps, which are frequent and long.
It all started out fine when Lea first arrived. She was content to sleep on an old rug we threw down for her wherever we happened to be in the house. On warm summer days, she would climb up a palm tree in the garden and lie in the sun on top of the wash house.
She even took to sleeping in the garage, on top of a pile of old blankets or outside under the table where we eat on hot, summer days or nights.
But then, came winter. Now, before I go any further, let me say that I too am a creature of habits. Among my daily routine of teas, lunches, aperitifs, writing, reading, and watching films on TV, there is one that is especially dear to my heart: my nap after lunch.
I usually take said nap in my favorite corner of the living room sofa. That is until SHE decided she liked that corner, too!
To add insult to injury, I woke up one day, went downstairs to have my tea, went into the study to turn on my computer and WHO was on my chair? LEA!
"That means she likes you," said Claudette whose motherly instincts make her a push-over for kids and pets.
"No," I protested, "it means she wants to prove she is top dog, er, top cat around here."
As if her affront of taking over all my favorite spots was not enough, when I got up from my chair after shooing her off, my bottom was covered with cat hairs. Augh!
I tried everything: menacing to sit on her when she was on my side of the sofa--she didn't move; placing her blanket on another chair--she ignored it.
It was not a fair fight because Lea had Claudette on her side. So, we came to a compromise: I get to sit on my favorite side of the sofa to take my naps, and LEA sits on my lap!
As time went on other things changed in the house: now there is more food in the pantry for the cat than for humans; we used to just get in the car and go when on vacation, now we have to think about care for Lea; now that we plan to go to Mexico for the winter, our biggest problem is not flight tickets or who is going to mind the house, but who is going to care for Lea.
The other day, thinking about these things, I said to Claudette: "We are now officially old folks with a cat! We can now form an association or club with all the little old ladies in the block who have cats and dogs!"
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