Diary of a Catsitter
By Barry Smith / www.Irrelativity.com
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My friend Arman drops his cat, Dinah, an even-tempered Calico, off at our
house. He is going away for a week and my wife and I are cat sitting for the
first time.
With Dinah comes a trunk-load of kitty accoutrements. Scratching post,
bed/basket, piece of string, litter, dry food dispenser and case of 3wet2
cat food. More stuff than I took with me to tour Europe in my 209s.
The cat starts checking out the house, jumping on the countertop. Arman
teaches us that a loud hand clap will make her stop what she is doing. We
need to be taught, as we don9t have pets. She jumps up again, he claps
again. He then picks her up and shows her the countertop, claiming that this
little orientation is all that she needs.
He moves her around the room, letting her look on top of the fridge, on the
shelf, in cupboards. For the first time I begin to suspect that Arman is
insane, but then I realize that this is typical cat owner behavior. It could
pass for insanity in a pinch, though.
I vow, at that moment, to never head down that road. I will refer to Dinah
only as 3cat,2 allowing me the emotional distance necessary to keep such a
vow. For the next five days I will provide food, shelter, and the occasional
scratch behind the ear or a bit of string play, but I will not become a cat
person.
*** DAY ONE
Give cat her morning allotment of canned cat food. Not something you want to
smell first thing in the morning. Or any time of the day, really. Had there
been any food in my stomach, I9d have lost it. Cat gets excited over the
sound of the opening can, but ignores food.
Christina (wife) calls me in to look at something cat is doing: Twitching
her tail against a magazine. Pretty cute.
Cat seems interested in what is under the sink, so I open the cabinet door
and she enters. She hangs out for a while. Pretty cute.
That night, cat sleeps in our room, at one point stepping on my head in
order to get to the windowsill. Pretty cute.
***DAY TWO
I9m mildly allergic to cats. Box of tissue is now constantly by my side. If
I steered clear it would be better, but I just can9t keep away.
Catch myself asking cat where things are: 3Where9s my wallet, cat? Where is
it? Did you see it? Where it is, diddy widdy widdums?2
Someone once said to me, 3I never liked cats until I started getting
stoned.2 Now I know what they mean. Cat and I played with string for three
solid hours.
She sleeps in our bed again, this time at the foot of it. Pretty cute.
*** DAY THREE
Christina gets out of bed and says to cat, 3Dinah, come help me make French
toast.2 She doesn9t know I9m keeping this diary.
Took first picture of cat doing something cute.
Moments later, take series of pictures of each of us holding cat.
*** DAY FOUR
Give cat morning canned food. Doesn9t smell that bad, really.
Guests come over and we talk about nothing but cat, about the cute things
she9s done, how she likes sitting at the top of the stairs, how she sleeps
with us. Soon we locate cat and bring her downstairs against her will so
guests can look at her.
While I9m writing, cat likes to sit on my lap. She walks across the keyboard
on her way somewhere else. Cat is now my Muse. I write a blues song about
the incident:
Sat down to write you a love letter
But the words just wouldn9t come
I9m typing with my fingers
But I feel like I9m all thumbs
OCause there9s aS
Cat on the keyboard
Cat on the keyboard of my soul.
She sleeps with us again, this time getting in bed before we do. Widdle
diddums. We huddle her up close between us, telling her in high pitched
voices how much we love her.
*** DAY FIVE
Arman gets home tonight.
Christina calls from work and tells me to lock the doors and not let him in.
She explains that cat loves us now, and wants to stay. She makes me put the
phone next to cat9s head so she can talk to her.
Arman returns and I try to change the subject each time he asks about his
cat, hoping he9ll forget and leave her with us. We love her so.
Arman packs up cat goodies. I secretly slip a little can of cat food in my
pocket.
And then, cat is gone, and I am alone. So very alone. Christina gets home
and our house feels empty. There is not much to talk about.
We wonder aloud if it is too early to call Arman and ask to speak to cat. I
open the can of cat food and set it on the table. Mmmmm. Smells like love.
****************
COPYRIGHT (C) 2002 by BARRY SMITH
Barry Smith's "Irrelativity" appears in The Aspen Times (the one in Aspen,
CO) twice weekly.
To receive a weekly email version of "Irrelativity" send a message
requesting such to barry@Irrelativity.com.
And hey, while you're thinking about it, you can visit the Irrelativity web
page at - check it out - http://www.Irrelativity.com. Once there you'll find
out how to get your copy of "ODE TO MUSTARD," Barry's collection of
hilarious poems and stories.
Should you feel an urge to forward this column, feel free to do so, but do
me the honor of leaving these crucial ramblings in place.
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