Sunday, August 27, 2006


Cats. I like 'em. Yet I've got to admit, there's no real rational reason why I should.

Take Delmar--please! (Thank you. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, you've been a lovely audience. Please be sure to tip your waitress. Thank you and goodnight!) The thing with Del is, aside from the fact that he's always been moody and cranky and has a tendency to bite and scratch me at random intervals and steals things from countertops and rips up newspapers and yowls loudly for no apparent reason--these are his good points, mind you--aside from all that, lately he's developed two really annoying habits.

First, he's started shedding. A lot. He's always done this, and when I'd sweep my floors every Saturday morning, there'd be enough accumulated fur to build a whole new cat. But ever since I acquired Monika, he's started to shed so much more. I thought it was a nervous thing at first, having to deal with another cat around, a rival for my affection. (I am, of course, expected to display affection for Del, whether he shows any for me or not.) Okay, but Monika's been here for half a year. Shedding season has come and gone. He's still at it. I wake up every morning with fur in my mouth. I had to put a comforter over my bed just to absorb cat hair. I don't enjoy this, it's not fun. Why should I put up with this? Just because I love my cat?

Sadly, yes.

Del's other annoying habit is--well, he doesn't like it when I have company. Overnight company. Overnight company of the female lady type persuasion. I mean, people can come by the apartment and visit, male and female, he's perfectly fine and personable. (As personable as he can be.) But as soon as, to quote a Rilo Kiley song, the talking leads to touching, and the touching leads to sex, Del can't deal. I don't know what he does while the actual act is transpiring--I'm guessing he cowers in a corner and questions the very existence of God--but afterwards, he prowls the floor at the foot of the bed , meowing sharply, the stump of his tail twitching. Talk to him and he growls, reach for him and he hisses, and he can keep this up all night long.

After the overnight guest leaves, Del is fine. He rubs his head against my leg and even purrs. He seems to be trying to remind me that he loves me, he loves me more than one of those two-legged female things could. I appreciate the sentiment, but what does he know? He's been neutured.