November 29

Apropos of absolutely nothing more than the incredible weight on my shoulders and the jackboot of oppression on my throat, I give you Sonny, the cat.

Cats come in two types; cat cats and cats who believe they are dogs. Sonny is of the canine camp. Sonny craves human attention. While cat #2, Nellie, appreciates the occasional head scratch, normally she's content to disappear under a chair in the girl's room and go to sleep. When we're on vacation, next door neighbor Krista reports that Nellie will literally vanish for days at a time, choosing to fend for herself rather than come back to an empty house. But really, what's to miss? A bunch of large, clumsy humans?

Sonny, on the other hand, actually likes the large, hairless inhabitants of the house and enjoys spending time with them. Occasionally he'll even run with the boy, rolling around on the grass like a rat terrier. Sonny spends our vacation time hanging around the front yard, hoping against hope that the next car coming up the street will be ours. Three houses down is a family with three young children whom Sonny has adopted as his surrogate family. They've told us that often when they drive up the street, Sonny will emerge from beneath some bush and trot up the street to greet them. Their kids will play with him and rub his ample belly, and Sonny is happy.

Once, while we were gone, Sonny meowed beneath this couple's bedroom window in the middle of the night. I don't think they found this quite as amusing as I did.

"Meow [come on, let me in]. MeeeOW? [Hello? When I do this at that other house they open a door and feed me] ME – fucking – OW [I know you're in there! Ya'll shut the door on me a few hours ago, remember? I've got nowhere to be and nothing better to do than lick my butt, so I ain't going anywhere!]"

Often, when I go home for lunch, Sonny will come charging out of some bush as I pull into the driveway. He'll come inside, have a little snack and then fall asleep on the carpet or inside a box full of the kid's school work. I always feel sort of badly when it's time to toss him out. Why don't I just leave him inside, you ask? Because Sonny has an odd stomach which not only hangs low and swings when he runs, but that also tends to empty itself with annoying regularity.

If I don't see him around, I'll go in the house all ninja like , making as little noise as possible so as not to alert him to my presence. If I see him come to the sliding door, I'll hide on the other side of the wall so he won't see me. I realize this sounds kind of sad, actually hiding from my cat, but it's worse if he sees me because then I have to either:

• Pretend I don't see him
• Look at him and ignore him ( I can't imagine what he must think when I do this. And I have)
• Let him in, only to toss him out 20 minutes later just when he's curled up all cute-like and gone to sleep.

These are the kinds of decisions Joe must deal with. With great power comes great responsibility. It is my curse, my cross to bear.

Comments

[sl]

Two words for you: Kitty Door.

(I just caught up with your postings - laughed hard while reading FORK. Glad to know my sib still knows the rules. She does, after all, have a nice long hallway in her house....)

[nerr]

aww.. i'd do anything for my cats to behave like sonny!