Monday, April 24, 2006

Cat-itude

As anyone who's read my blog for any length of time knows, I'm a "dog person." I've wanted a dog since I was a kid - every Christmas, every adolescent birthday wish - was for a puppy. I'm pro-pitbull (Judge the Deed, Not the Breed) and break my own heart every time I go to the pound and see all those soulful eyes pleading with me to take them home. Unfortunately, I've never been in a position to do just that very thing, what with my landlords' rules and all or, in my current situation, the resident canine demanding the place all to himself. So, I took the stereotypical single girls' route and became a crazy* cat lady.

A couple years ago, I went to the Humane Society and adopted a couple of lithe, bat-eared Siamese kitties. One of them is practically a dog, as he will fetch for hours and follows me around like a little shadow. (Of course, this will probably be the death of me as he tends to follow and lead at the same time. This attempt at anticipating my every move has resulted in more than a few trips and spills in my efforts not to squash his little body.) The other is scared of pretty much everything, including her own shadow. You look at her cross-eyed and she is running and diving under the bed, her little heart ready to bust at all the imagined attempts on her life. When you ignore her, she's alright and will try to go about her own business. She's very bonded to the other cat (the reason I adopted both of them in the first place) and when it's just the two of them, they're really sweet with each other. The only time she'll let herself relax in the vicinity of a person is when you're asleep. Then, the two cats will curl up in the crook of my knees and sleep until morning. I don't kid myself about this - I know they're only in it for the body heat.
Anyway, the only reason I bring all this up is that lately (after 2+ years!) she seems to be mellowing out a bit. Enough to let me take up-close-and-personal pictures of her that are not from under the bed, peeking from behind a closet door, or from 10 feet away. But, judging from the expression on her face, I don't think she liked it much.

(* Crazy is most likely a pre-existing condition and didn't have much to do with the cats.)

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