Full disclosure: I long considered myself a “dog person.” It wasn’t until a few years ago that a string of unexpected occurrences dropped my precious Katze into my life, showing me that a kitty could steal my heart just as much as a dog could. The moment I met her, I fell in love.
Love is great and all, but one of the best things about being Katze’s mom has been her rescuing me from tense moments. Just as easily as I get myself into a sticky situation, she bails me out like I’m Tuco from the spaghetti western The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly with a noose around my neck and she’s a pistol-wielding Blondie who frees me from my captors. It’s not literal, though. Instead of helping me flee Sergio Leone’s Spanish plains that claim to be the Wild West, she has helped me out of numerous domestic quagmires. Here are several.
Look, I’m not completely socially inept. I like parties and friendship as much as the next warm-blooded American. But. Around the two-hour mark into any given event, I feel my pizzazz start to peter out and my Lord Sauron personality start to shine through. Much like my cat, alone time is a big priority. “Sorry, gotta run,” I hear myself fabricate to whichever poor soul I’ve bamboozled into conversing. “I have to get home quickly to feed my cat.” Lies! Such terrible lies! She’s probably fast asleep next to an untouched free-feed bowl as we speak! Yet I know that I will probably never be able to stop disguising my limited charisma with her phony eating schedule.
She’s a cute and cuddly ol’ thing, but Katze never loses her innate feline ferocity. Though I try to avoid them, I’ve witnessed a few of her hunts. To the foolish fruit fly or little mouse with the audacity to a-tisket a-tasket within arm’s length of Katze’s Rocky Balboa-strength paws: Later, losers.
I have a friend who we’ll call Muscle Milk McGee, after his very limited life passions: lifting weights and the inability to talk about anything besides lifting weights. A favorite party trick Katze performs for Mr. Milk McGee is conveniently having fur even though Mr. M.M. is allergic. Impressive! When he scissor-kicks his way from casual-visit into dear-god-why-won’t-he-leave territory, Katze brilliantly plants her hairy body on his lap, directly beneath his nose. After her genius maneuver, I can usually count on one hand the minutes he sticks around before he goes (to the gym, probably). I’m so proud of her.
When Katze sleeps, she becomes a perfect little angel cat. She curls up like an adorable sushi roll, she wiggles her sweet paws according to her sweet kitty dreams, and she makes the exact snoring noises that Disney puts in their cartoons when they want you to fall in love with something. Then she wakes up. And stands on my face. I would probably be more upset about this if the rude-seeming act weren’t the one thing in the world that gets me out of bed in the morning.
When I was a small, scrappy child in Colorado, my absolute favorite game was “Pint-Size Robinson Crusoe of the Rockies.” The game — which basically boiled down to snacking on dirty foliage and launching myself off the massive boulders around my grandparents’ mountain home — solidified what I always knew to be true: I’m a lone wolf.
As an adult, I wash my vegetables before I eat them. Aside from that, I’m still the same old lone wolf that I’ve always been. So whenever a well-meaning friend or relative asks about my personal life, I resort to some well-worn joke about about being a crazy cat lady — which isn’t really true or fair to me or to my cat. It’s a cheap way to keep that whole messy topic from turning into a cliche-laced conversation about bigger life questions. How? I’m able to supply a never-ending library of Katze portraits, keeping banter light and everybody happy. Plus, I’m sure Katze loves the attention.
Speaking of unintended consequences, what are some things you’ve gained by having a cat that you’d not considered?
Read more by Laura Jaye Cramer
About the author: Laura Jaye Cramer is a freelance writer and ballet dancer based out of San Francisco. When she isn’t busy tending to her sweet little cat baby, she can be found drooling over artifacts in a museum, building a shrine to Dolly Parton, or eating a trough of guacamole. Stalk her on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook.