Living With Nyx

I cleared the kitchen table, then gathered what I needed. I strategically arranged my mug of tea, my anthropology binder, my planner, and my pencil bag to create an ideal study space. I opened the blinds and turned on both lamps so I wouldn’t strain my eyes. Once everything was perfect, I perched on the edge of the hard wooden chair and eagerly started my essay.

I had just begun when I felt his silky fur brush my bare feet.

“Hey, buddy.” I smiled.

“Awe.” He meowed.

I looked down at the little grey cat who tilted his head and waited for me to engage. I resisted the urge to stop and pet him and went back to my studies. He brushed against my feet several more times, desperate for some attention. It was getting harder to ignore him, and now he was purring.

“I know, sweet baby, you just want some love, but you know I get sick if I hold you.”

I was allergic to cats. I should not have let my roommate rescue the pitiful little creature in the first place. She was gone this week, and as I looked down at his sad little eyes, I understood the loneliness there.

“Yeah, me too. I miss her too. Come here.” I begrudgingly scooped him up, knowing I would regret it later. He turned in a circle then snuggled down on my lap with a cheerful trill. His silver eyes gazed just above the edge of the table, ready to take in whatever activity dare distract me from his adorableness.

I scratched the back of his ear, then picked up my pen to return to my work. Almost instantly, a little grey paw swiped at lighting speed and knocked the pen clear out of my hand.

“Nyx!” I exclaimed. "Good thing you got declawed, you feisty little kitty." 

I retrieved the pen. I felt his tiny feet press into my thighs as he settled back down in my lap, and I started writing again.

Suddenly his soft little paws were wrapped around my arm, with his teeth gnashing at my pen.

“Buddy, come on.” I pushed him back down into my lap and turned back to my project. By this point, my eyes were starting to water, and it was difficult to focus. I was getting frustrated and debated putting him in the other room for a bit. I glanced down, and he was peacefully licking a paw. He seemed so comfortable I couldn’t bring myself to disturb him.

The clever little devil waited, bided his time for the perfect opportunity.

I tapped my pen a few times, trying to figure out what I had been planning with the half-written sentence before me. Finally, I got my train of thought back. As soon as my focus was at full force, Nyx jumped from my lap, onto the table, turned in one circle, and laid down on my notebook. His fuzzy body stretched across the pages, and when he looked up at me, he looked me directly in the eyes, and I swear I saw him smirk.

“Really, bud?”

“Awe.”

There was sincere pride in his eyes. This had all been a game, and he had just won. I pushed my chair away from the table. He hopped up, startled, and waited for clues as to what I might do next. I walked over to the kitchen counter and grabbed the lazar pointer.

“This is what you want, right?” I pointed it at the wall, and he dove for it.

“Yeah, I should have known. It was never my love and affection you wanted, just my opposable thumbs. But at least you make me laugh.” I continued to play with him until he exhausted and curled up on the rug to sleep.  

A few days later, I was stretched out on my bed watching Netflix. I had entirely given up on getting any more school assignments done. I heard a knock on my door, and my roommate poked her head in.

“Hey, thanks for feeding Nyx while I was gone. Did you get your essay done?

         “Nope, but watch what I taught your cat.”

         I pulled the ponytail holder off of my wrist. She had Nyx bundled in her arms. I walked over to them and held the ponytail holder inches from his face. Once he recognized it, I put it in the palm of my hand then closed my fist around it. Then I put my hands behind my back, switched the ponytail back and forth a few times, and then held my fists out to him. He looked tentatively at one hand, then the other, debated for a moment, then made his choice. He gently pawed at my left hand. I opened it, revealing an empty palm, and he quickly tapped my right fist.

“There you go,” I revealed the ponytail holder. “Want to play again?”

“Awe!”

My roommate laughed and sat down on the carpet with her little bundle of fur wiggling to get free. We played with the little grey cat as she told me all about her week of adventure.

        Thirty minutes after my roommate and her furry companion had gone to bed for the night, I was still awake sneezing and scratching. In an allergy-induced daze, I walked over to the bathroom cabinet, as I so often did. I peeled back the foil on the back of a pill tab, 10 milligrams of Cetirizine HCL – antihistamine.

        Two weeks earlier, my mom read an article about how taking antihistamines frequently had been linked to an increased likelihood of getting Alzheimer’s. Being a mom, she forwarded the article to me by way of warning me about my extreme dependence on over the counter allergy medicine. As I swallowed the little white pill, I wondered if Alzheimer’s would be my fate in sixty years. The thought of it didn’t frighten me, I simply wondered if at eighty-two years old I would be able to think back fondly of my college roommate, our first apartment, and our little furry friend.