Nothing

           This is my first day. I've only known cats in a few ways . See, my dad is allergic to cats. My mom told when my mom and dad first got together, they had a cat, but my dad's eyes swelled and they had to give up the cat. It's name was Ginger. God only knows where Ginger is now.  Well, there was the time my fiances had cats. See, I've been engaged three times. None of them worked out. But, the first one was possessive of my girlfriend and one time when we were making love, her cat decided to use my leg as a scratching post. It never liked to cuddle with me the way dogs do. And the next fiance's cat would jump on the keyboard when I was typing and spray the apartment. I've also seen cats rip apart couches and do other things. You can't own any other pet with a cat, either. A dog will fight with it. It'll eat gerbals, mice, parrots, fish, or any other small animals. So, you have pet cats, that's it. That's all you have. 

           I go with someone else who is volunteering. She has more experience with cats than I do. She says she's looking forward to petting them. I, on the other hand, am here to build a resume. See I've lost my right to work for money (long story) but I'm allowed to work off book or volunteer. It's bettter than being in the shit hole I live in. Hell, anything is. So, we get there, or rather, are driven there by the transportation at the place we live, and I put on a smile.  We ring the doorbell and there's a sign on the door which reads, “Do not let the cats out”. Makes sense. 

           So, we walk in, introduce ourselves, and the coordinator figures out what tasks we can do. I've brought my cell phone and Bluetooth headphones. My first assignment is to scrape cat haair off of the scratching posts. They give me something that looks like a fine tooth comb. Think my sister's allergic to cats too, but not sure. I clean, scrape, cat hair is everywhere. It seems boring, which is wonderful. Yea, boring. See, at the place I love, there's screaming, fighting, constant questions I don't want to answer, but here, a few meowing cats and a leanant boss. Scrape, sccrape, scrape.  Nice alternative rock from the 90's on my headphones. Scrape, scrape. It's like a meditation.  Scrape, listen, breathe. Then, I put my hand in a scratching post cave and I get scratched. Fucking figures. I knew I was a dog person. So, I ask for my supervisor and she gets the first aid kit. Puts some guaze and tape on and I get back to work. Scrape, scrape. Look in the caves, nothing, so I scrape. Once I had a friend who said, “My pussy's on my pussy. It makes sense if you're a girl and you have a cat.” Their eyes aree weird. See, human eyes are round, but the cats' eyes are diamond shaped. Weird. Why? None of them are disclawed and I don't know if they can or can't spray this place. The cats I mean. 

           I finish cleaning the scratching posts, so they have me wash the windows with vinegar and water. Spray, wipe, spray, wipe. Wonder if I'll be cleaning the litter boxes, too. See, I don't mind cleaning for work. Work has to be clean. We have to make the customers comfortable. I get it. But, when we get home from work, we should be able to live in our house the way we want to. Why would I ever want anyone in my home besides a dog? I wouldn't, unless I'm fucking them. But, once I was held to the ground and worried about sufficating since the workers wanted my floor swept and I didn't want to.  But, this is work, so it can be clean. Clean, clean, clean. No repeated sentences: “I farted. I farted. I farted.” No fist fights. Boring cats and a few scratches. Wash the windows. Wash the dishes. Sweep and mop the floor. Don't let the cats out. Vacuum the rugs. Spray air freshener. Get the dirty laundry and put it in the laundry room. Break and pet the cats and read. I brought a library book. I've heard you own a dog, but a cat owns you. I don't have to clip their nails, brush their hair, brush their teeth, nothing. 

           There's vomit from a cat on the ground, so I clean it up. The issues I don't have to worry about. I don't do billing, pay rent, do vet work, cut nails, brush teeth, just clean. Some say when we die, if we're good, we lay on clouds, get wings, and play harps. There are no more deadlines, God is our only boss, we have food, wine, and can take it easy. This place is Heaven. Forget wine and clouds. I hear meows everywhere. There are some cat fights, but the boss breaks them up. I can catch a dog, but can't catch a cat. I've tried. 

           I called my ex's cat a meowing chihuahua. Then, when my parents asked if there were ever any cats in my apartment, I told them there were just chihuahuas. My parents. My dad's eyes got red and puffy, which is why I didn't ask if I could work here, because I know the answer would be no. But they don't visit often. Maybe once or twice a year. Maybe if my dad has allergic reactions, they'll stop visiting altogether. See, I like peace and quiet and whenever they come, there's trauma. I like listening to the sound of the air conditioning fan going on and off late at night. It puts me to sleep. No barking, no meowing. No someone screaming for a nurse at 3 am because they're lonely. Ust the sound of headphones and the A/C unit and here, meows. Can't tell if they're angry meows or happy meows, but I don't care. It's not trauma and if it is, someone else will take care of it. I get to rest and relax with cats.            Wouldn't it be nice if I could live with someone with no trauma, but that can never happen. People fight, dogs and cats get yelled at, so I have my stuffed animals. Bears, lions, dogs, tigers, and others. They're stuffed. I sit down and rest from my cleaning and most of the cats keep doing what they're doing; shitting in the litter boxes, eating their food, scratching the scratching posts, but one jumps on my lap, meows, and exposes her stomach. So, I pet her and she purrs, so I keep petting her. I've never been with a cat like this before. The doctors say petting animals reduces blood pressure and it's nice. Then, though, after five minutes, there's a knock on the door and our ride is here. We tell the manager we'll be back next week. I'm a dog person, not a cat person, but that was something a dog would do, not a cat, and maybe I could give it a shot for the cats instead of the resume.