brit_columbia (brit_columbia) wrote,

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Cat Angst

     If you're a cat lover, or really, any kind of animal lover, you will perhaps relate to the hell my cat put me through this morning!  Well, I guess it's yesterday morning now, since it's gone midnight.  I have explained what he did in this here LJ cut.  No, don't worry, it's not that long!  It's just that I'm still so thrilled with my new-found ability to do LJ cuts that I'm kind of cruising for any excuse..

     I had a stressful couple of hours this morning.  Fluff didn't show up for breakfast, which was most unlike him.  I cast my mind back to when I had last seen him, and that turned out to be about 9 pm last night as he was running out through my sundeck door, trying to get away from a visiting child.  For reasons unknown, our Fluff does not like children, in particular, my nephews, who have never done anything to him.  The first moment they laid eyes on each other, it was hate at first sight on his part and fear at first sight on theirs.  He hissed and growled and basically threatened in Catglish to tear out their tender throats if they came near him. As he was rather convincing, there was no question of their doubting him on this point. Then he fled to the basement and didn't reappear until he was sure they were good and gone.  He even hisses at my sister when she comes without her children, because he recognizes her as the progenitor of the Demon Spawn.

     Now you have to understand something.  Fluff is stunningly cute.  You've seen Gund stuffed animals?  Small Kilala on Inu Yasha? Well Fluff is at least three times cuter than they are without even trying.  And sometimes, he actually does try, which sends his cute-o-meter soaring into the red zone.  So, anyway,  this dear little girl in a pink fuzzy sweater who was visiting me last night, was quite taken with him because he looks like an extra fluffy toy cat, and she stood on the balcony forlornly calling Fluff, who just hissed nastily at her before turning tail and disappearing into the night.  She was so disappointed, and dare I say, hurt, so I had to explain to the family that it wasn't personal and that he was always that rude.  I remarked that he would certainly want to be her friend  when she was all grown up, and by then he'd be old and not as fast on his feet even if he did try to run away.

      I confess I didn't think of him again until breakfast, at which time I called him and he didn't come.  I thought, Okay, he's just wandered a little far afield, he'll be yowling at the window in no time at all.  Two hours later, there was still no sign of him, and fear was nudging at the back of my mind.  I entertained various possibilities.  Had he been hit by a car?  Lured close and then assaulted by an inebriated or evil group of young men?  Chewed up by a dog?  Kidnapped by some unscrupulous person who wished merely to gaze upon his unrivalled cuteness day after day?  The fear began to extend root-like tendrils into the few still vulnerable parts of my jaded heart.

      I reflected upon our folly in never having provided him with a collar with his name and our phone number.  I recalled those sad posters I see about our neighbourhood sometimes that announce to the public that someone's beloved cat is missing and that there is a reward offered for his or her safe return.  I always want to call those people and ask if they got their cats back, but I'm afraid that by calling AT ALL, I will cruelly raise hopes that have been dashed.  I don't want to exacerbate the situation in any way.  So I keep quiet, I worry and I wonder how those stories ended.  Now, with disbelief, I considered the possibility that I was about to join the ranks of those poor, bereft people.  By ten a.m., I was feeling positively sorrowful.  Then I had an idea.  I hadn't checked the guest bedroom in the basement!  I went down the stairs, forcing myself not to hurry, bracing myself to see an empty bed...And there he was, starting guiltily at the sight of me, because he knows how I disapprove of cats on beds.  
     "Uh, sorry," he said sheepishly in Catglish.  "I'll move..."
     "Fluff!"  I cried happily, no doubt thoroughly confusing him.  "I'm so glad to see you!"  Then we had a lovely cuddle that ended with me being plastered from head to toe with a thick coating of his luxurious white cat hair, which surely should stop falling out of his body now that WINTER'S coming, God dammmit.  Then I took him upstairs and gave him breakfast and breathed a huge sigh of relief.  I'm going to get him a collar this weekend, even though my father feels that collars on cats are oppressive and dangerous, and will probably appoint himself as Fluff's lawyer and tie up proceedings for months to come with appeals and counter appeals.

     But the main point of this story is that my adorable cat is still with me, and now I'm not going to take him for granted anymore!  And Blue, stop worrying.  You don't have to sleep in the basement when you finally get your butt over to this part of the world.  We have other beds!  Yay!  Don't you love happy endings?

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