Cat Fight

It seems that every year as the chill in the air becomes more constant, our family adopts a pet, or two – or more! Last year we had a group of grown cats all carefully named: Sparkle, Julie, Cruella, and Calicorn. When Papa visited at Christmas, he left us with a couple months supply of cat food for the little critters, and the tradition got a little more serious.

This year, as you may remember, Sparkle (who last year was a male and this year had a litter of kittens) is back with her five kittens (the Papa cat being last-year’s Cruella!). One of the kittens adores us and visits us constantly... she even tried to sneak in the house when Little E conspires with her and opens the door! Mr. Man named her Christmas (because he thinks she won’t last till Christmas out in the cold – she is the runt of the bunch after all!) Big J likes to call her Christmas because it looks like her ears have been dipped in frosting for Christmas cookies! There’s another little kittie who looks just like her but is black, and so her name is Copycat. Then there is the one who runs away feverishly every time we open the door – so he’s Scaredycat. The fourth one is AltTab – because he’s half tabby and pretty alternative looking. The fifth little kitten, poor soul, is more than a little scruffy looking and Mr. Man calls him Roadkill.

I have to admit to being an avid non-pet-lover. I’m basically disgusted by most little creatures. Those little fur balls are anything but cute to me. They have done dirty business in my garden, peed in my boys’ trucks and turned our chairs and mats into hair-covered lounging areas. I despise being hissed at in my own backyard by a protective mother cat, and was ready to vomit when a dead mouse was being played with just on the other side of the door while I was trying to eat my breakfast. Mr. Man gets all cute and cuddly when he sees those cats. His voice rises at least 100 decibels and he’s just about ready to take out stocks in cat food. While I shiver in disgust and dislike, Mr. Man shivers in adoration and a desire to really adopt those little critters (he’s even thinking about building them a little cat house out in the woods behind our house!). Thankfully our lease is to my defense at this time, but Mr. Man has started an all out coup d'état to get the children riled up to demand a cat, or a dog or some other dirty, smelly, hairy, annoying creature into our house as soon as we leave this protected estate.

I told Mr. Man that when the day comes that he is sleeping with an animal, he won’t be sleeping with me! I’m curious what Dr. Laura would have to say about this cat fight that we have going on between us. How do two people with un-negotiable feelings negotiate? At least we have a few years to figure out if we’ll have to pay for two separate dwelling places or not! In the mean time I curse the cats as I fill up the bowl with milk three times a day. The children are thoroughly entertained while I have time to myself, and at 10pm every night I get to mock my adoring husband as he fiddles with the indoor and outdoor lights to get the best possible look at his favourite little furry flock.