First blush is always deceptive…
Great. So I thought I’d lucked out and adopted the perfect cat.
Should’ve known I was jinxing myself. I mean, I even came up with a LIST of reasons she was perfect. Here are a few highlights to let you know what I thought I was working with:
- Found the litterbox without coaching. Even after I moved it. And put a lid on it.
- Didn’t act skittish and hide under my bed when she arrived. Jumped on it like a boss.
- Purrs constantly. Even just if you make eye contact.
- Doesn’t bite. She only swats at you to pull your hand closer to her head – so you can scratch her.
- Hates Stompy Michael as much as I do. Stares at the ceiling with a look of exasperation whenever he moves.
- Fetches.
And that’s only a partial list.
In any case, that “perfect kitty” image was shattered today when I came home from work and found Miss Moneypenny waiting for me right inside the door with eyes the size of saucers.
“Hmm,” I thought. “This is an odd time of day for her to be hyper.”
She then proceeded to tear-ass around my condo, practically running across the walls as if it were a velodrome. Definitely out of character for a cat who is normally groggy from her nap. And she doesn’t own a bike.
“Maybe she’s just excited to see me,” I thought, heading down the path of so many enablers, making excuses for a user.
Then I went to my bedroom to change and noticed that my closet door was open. Very odd, since I make sure it’s closed at all times so she can’t fur-up my clothes. I looked at her accusingly, but then dismissed it… I’d probably rushed out this morning and left it open myself.
Yes, sadly, I started blaming myself – another classic enabler move.
But I could hide from the truth no longer when – as a special treat – I went to retrieve “Turtle,” (the fuzzy toy filled with catnip that I shared with her yesterday) and found him missing from his spot inside my closet.
And we all know turtles don’t just hustle off.
Suddenly, everything made sense – the erratic behavior, the open closet door, the big eyes.
I found Turtle ten minutes later, under my bed, still wet from kitty slobber.
Oh, Miss Moneypenny!?
Miss Moneypenny wouldn’t make eye contact with me, pretending she had no idea who Turtle even was. So quick to disown.
Headshake.
This is the face of addiction, people. We have to confront it head-on. No hiding.
Now excuse me while I run off to finish my Girl Scout Samoas. On the floor of my kitchen. In my underwear.
Do. Not. Judge.
pithypants 
Oh what a shame to be hooked on cat crack so young…guess you’re going to have to go with tough love. Don’t leave your purse around & make sure she’s not sneaking out at night.
Today I noticed that the television is missing.
Fetching is a common quality in black cats – I learned that when mine started doing it immediately after I got her (but she’s lazy and only brings the thing halfway back, then yells at me about it). And she does the exact same thing when she’s been into the catnip. I hope Miss Moneypenny doesn’t start reaching a paw into your water glass so she can daintily drink your beverages. That’s particularly charming.
If she does, she will be squirted in the face.
Soooooooo I’m going to just ignore this catlady situation and instead focus on the fact that there were somoas and I was not invited over. I would have gladly sat in my underwear.
Sorry, Andrew. Anyone who comes between me and my Samoas gets cut.