Me and my cat.

Me and My Cat

By Brigitte Davies

I am supposed to be responding to emails, checking messages and answering the phone; however, in between trying to get some work done, there is my cat, Hunter. Apparently, her needs override mine. That she makes clear. She makes the rules. Not me. She tells me when I can read. She tells me when I can have a cup of coffee. She tells me when I will answer the phone. Not me.

She decides when I can use the bathroom. And she runs the house, not me.

Somehow, my cat, Hunter, feels she owns me. I used to think I was the owner up until I started to work from home, and then my cat let me know she decides when I am going to sleep, when I am going to read or eat, and when I am going to get my work done.

I finally stopped arguing with her because I realize there is only one way to coexist with her, and that is IF I allow her to make the rules. She rubs her furry head against my pants leg and reminds me she lives here too. It is not all about me and my needs. But she matters also.

She made it clear who runs the house and when she needs me, I will respond. Whether it be food, water, affection or exercise . . . whatever it is she needs; she will come first.

I feel she should hang a sign on the front door that reads: 

Cats make the rules.

Humans just live here.

I feel she somehow tells me when to open the back door, where she is going to rest her furry body and when she wants to cuddle. I am not the owner, but now she owns ME. I finally accept there is no way to win this fight.

So, when she needs me, I must stop everything. There really is not much choice if we want to live together peacefully. In every relationship, there is always one personality that is more domineering than the other, while the other personality follows along. I know where I stand. She knows where I stand too.

The birds outside are noisily chirping. Either they are hungry or flirting. Maybe they are singing to me. But regardless of what is going on, I need to pick up the phone. I have a meeting this week.

"Hello.” I hear an angry voice on the other end. 

“I need to meet with you! Can you get your calendar out and tell me what day is good to meet?”

"Sure, give me a moment. My cat is in the way."

"Huh?"

I can hear her thoughts through the phone. She must think I am crazy. Her cat is stopping me from getting work done? What sort of person is this anyway?

I try to grab my black leather book but just when I reach over to get a pen, the cat decides it is her book now. It is her book to sit on. It is her time to explore the book shelves. It is her time to play. Her tail goes up as she climbs carefully over the books and reminds me who is boss.

She assertively places her plump, furry body on the black leather book I need, forcing me to lose my balance.

And whatever other books were on the shelf also come tumbling down in a sort of domino style. With papers and books now lying around, I slide and fall.

I holler out, "Just wait a minute while I just grab a pen and paper!" When I get to the phone, there is a long buzzing sound of a phone that was hung up.

My furry feline jumps off the bookshelf and lands on my computer. Making sure to stomp on as many keys as possible, while pressing the spacebar and delete, all the messages were thrown into the trash can at the bottom of the screen." Just great!"

I have no idea what I was writing. I hit the back arrow hoping the last message will pop up. Not sure where it went, but most likely it is in the trash. Thanks to my furry feline, I now have no idea what the letter was about and how I am going to send it.

I hang up the phone and in a minute or so, she calls me back. I hear the person on the other end of the phone and I explain, “I am sorry, but you will need to email me again. My cat deleted the email and it is in the trash can now.” Then I hear a click.

She will call back later, I suppose. I need to trust that people are understanding and that they are kind. A few minutes later, the phone rings. It rings three times before I hear the answering machine pick up. I try to talk while the machine is on, but there is no use. I am forced to hang up and lose the call.

Angrily, I glance at my loving cat and remind her, “The next time you need to jump and get some exercise, please find another shelf or another book. Thanks for your anticipated cooperation in this matter.” I walk angrily into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of orange juice. But before I have a chance to pour the juice, she is right there on my leg, demanding food. And attention.

I bend down to pat her head and while patting her head, I reach for the dry food and toss one small piece on the hard floor. I throw it toward the end of the room to divert her attention. Hopefully, I can get something to drink and eat and escape the kitchen without her knowing. She will be in the other room, searching for the kibble, while I am making a bee-line toward my office. While reaching for the coffee filters and adding some coffee grinds to my afternoon coffee, who appears back in the kitchen to remind me she needs attention? Or does she need more water? Or perhaps her litter pan is not to her liking.

Forget it, I tell her. I am busy making coffee. You will need to bother someone else now. Her loud meow starts to turn into a sort of annoying scream. Sounding like an impatient baby crying for her bottle, she forces me to stop fixing the coffee. I set the can down on the kitchen counter to attend to her needs.

While grabbing for her water bowl and food dish, I hear the phone ringing in the office. But I let the answering machine answer this time since there is no way I can get to the phone now.

I hear the beep and then a voice says, “Call me back as soon as possible. The papers were present. Thanks.” 

Then a loud clunk ends the phone call and my heart skips a few beats thinking, There is no way anything is going to get accomplished here this morning with this cat bothering me constantly.

I apologize to the cat and explain, “You are going to need to wait to get in any attention because I must get this work done.” And so, after grabbing the coffee while it is still dripping, I manage to get a half a cup of black coffee and remind myself, The heck with the cream and sugar. If this is the way the morning is going to go, I should be grateful that there is coffee.

After the coffee is done and turning off the pot, I make sure that I am going to be able to sit down and get the email read and some papers sent. But not long before I sit down, she is there on the kitchen chair before me.

Sitting on the seat, she reminds me, I am going to sit here first and you will need to sit in another chair.

Just as I go to sit in the other chair, sure enough, she already manages to jump off the chair I was originally going to sit in and lunges for the other one. The coffee cup flies out of my hands and lands all over the nice beige carpet that was just put in.

Trying not to scream, I crunch up my face really tight and hold in a loud yell. If only I could be left alone for a few minutes. “Please, bother someone else.” 

She sits in the kitchen chair and reminds me, I live here too. I am reminded of this constantly. Since the cat clearly has made her point, I am not getting any coffee this morning, or at least not right now, and also I am not going to be reading any emails or answering any phone calls right now, I need to accept she runs the house and makes the rules. Not me.

Finally, feeling defeated, I throw myself down on the living room carpet and start to cry. Tears roll down my cheeks and my nose gets all stuffed up. Who jumps off the kitchen chair to comfort me? To console me? To make my life all better . . . my blessed cat. She licks my salty tears, every one of them and allows me to cry. Her rough tongue feels scratchy on my skin, but at this point, what else is there to do? I cannot answer the phone or make coffee or sit in the kitchen or read my emails, so I may as well lie down on the living room carpet and just cry. My cat reminds me, It is okay to be upset. 

Great, I think to myself. She lets me express my frustration, allowing me to be somewhat uncontrolled at least for the moment. Her furry plump body relaxes next to mine, and she reaches out her round soft paw to tap my cheek. Perhaps she reminds me it is okay to be human. Or maybe she is telling me something else.

In a few minutes, we are both lying on the carpet, while the afternoon sunshine warms up our bodies. Perhaps this is what I am supposed to be doing at the moment and in this moment, there is perfection and life.

Work can wait.