Lately I have taken to asking Joey if he’d get me a cat. (Particularly a fluffy gray cat with white paws.) He continues to say no for such logical reasons as:
- We might move someday and it’s not logical to get a cat yet
- I don’t really like cats unless they’re fluffy and pristine
- If on the odd chance I were to become with child, we’d have to get rid of the cat
He’s right, of course. But this doesn’t really stop me from asking. And so that is why, last Sunday on the way home from church, I said, “When are you going to get me a kitty?”
“Not until all children we are planning to have are had.” Came the standard answer.
As we walked up the steps to our apartment, though…
“JOEY!!!” I hissed, pointing frantically at the steps, “There is a cat! Running up towards our apartment!”
The cat was huge, blackish/brown, and ridiculously sleek. (All traits that are highly prized among cats if you are a Laird.) The cat sat down in front of our door and looked plaintively at us.
“It is a sign from God,” I crowed. “Can I keep him?”
“No, you cannot keep him. God doesn’t give things to you that already belong to others. Get out your phone, we’re going to call his owners. Oh, look his name is George.”
“Boo,” I whined. “George is such a cool name.”
The first number on the tag did not answer. “Maybe we can keep him?” I asked, hopefully.
Joey called the second number and George’s owner answered. She was a kind, British sounding woman who lived in the apartment in the same position as ours in the next group of apartments down the row. She said she’d come right over to pick up George.
When she arrived she told us that George commonly mistakes our apartment for his and that since he’s really overweight they’ve been trying to let him out now and then so he can get some exercise. (I don’t think it’s working if he’s just coming over and sitting in front of our apartment, but whatever.)
She picked George up and took him home and I was sorely displeased to see them go.
Last night as I was doing laundry Joey said, “Do you hear that cat?”
I stopped the washer and ran over to the door. “No, I don’t…”
Maybe George is back! I thought. I opened the door just a bit to peek outside and, sure enough, there was George trying to force his way in to our apartment.
“YES! It’s George!” I hissed. I picked up Henry and dumped him in the bathroom and shut the door. He did not appreciate this and began scratching at the door and barking. Then I ran back to the front door and told Joey to grab the camera so I could get some pictures of George.
I opened the door just far enough to try to sneak out to pet George when, just like that, he streaked into our apartment and started running around looking for who knows what.
“Oh great,” Joey muttered.
“Cool!” I squealed, and started chasing George around the living room. I’d nearly catch him but, sleek as he was, he’d slip right out of my hands. (It reminded me of that time I let a chipmunk loose in the red room in the green house. Remember that, Mom? Hehehe…) Joey was able to snap a picture once when George was sitting still. You can’t quite tell how huge he is, but just know that he’s gargantuan.
He got another one when I managed to flip him over to try to get a good look at how large the cat’s girth was.
George didn’t want to be photographed or flipped over on his back, so all we got was him wriggling away as Joey took the picture. (You can see my hands trying to hold him in place.)
“Take more!” I begged, but Joey insisted we try to get George out of our house before we traumatized him. I was disappointed, but I scooted George toward the door and, when Joey opened it, he ran right out. Then we opened the bathroom door and let Henry out. He ran around the house like a mad dog trying to find the cat, but he was unsuccessful. (George is about twice the size of Henry, and I’m not even kidding. He probably weighs 20 pounds and Henry’s about 12.)
And later, when Henry and I went to go get gas in the car, we found George sitting under our car looking sleek and pristine. “I think he likes us,” I whispered to Henry before chasing George off so I wouldn’t run him over.
I’ll post the pictures of George tomorrow because I know you’re all dying to see him.
And it’s good Wisdom this year, too. I think he’s getting (gasp!) mature or something.
