A recent conversation in a pet store:
DH: (pointing to a cute Moze-colored Maltese) You know, if you really want to get a cuddly pet, you can’t go wrong with a small dog. They’ll get up in your lap and snuggle with you all night long.
La: Well, that’s nice and all, but they have to be house trained. If I found one that could already use a litter box, I might consider it.
La: Then there’s all the barking and whining and howling…I don’t know if I’d want a little yapper. And they’re so needy all the time. Too needy…and they get to smelling bad, and they drool.
DH: So what you’re saying is the perfect small dog for you would be another cat?
This conversation took place just a couple weeks after Momoze died. I was so desperately trying to fill the void that was left by his passing, I was considering ANYfurryTHING as a new pet: another cat, a little dog…the possum that eats my FIL’s figs. I didn’t care. I was lonely. I missed my Moze, and it still hurt…a lot. So wrapped up in my loneliness, little did I consider that there might be others in the house missing Moze too, others whose only voice was the plaintive yowl of mamacat calling for her lost little kitten. Then the most amazing thing happened.
Now, for those of you who have been reading Fibercrack’d for any length of time have read about my other cat, Sassy.
The queen of Aloofstonia; little Miss Poops-wherever-she-damned-well-feels-like-it (hint: rarely is it the litter box); pick me up and I’ll squeal like a piglet; Lady Nagsalot-feed-me-now. Yeah, we’ve got a million names for her, most of them not very flattering. Basically she’s a beautiful tortoiseshell calico with luxurious fur whose most friendly characteristic was she’d suffer pattings from me every now and again…if she must; was being the operative word here.
In the past couple of weeks I’ve noticed a dramatic change in her behavior. She is no longer aloof and touch-me-not. She constantly seeks me out whenever I am home, and if I enter a room she’s lounging in, she’ll immediately look up, meow, and stretch out her paw.
Now, it could just be my imagination, but the DH has noticed it too. Sassy’s blooming.
Granted, she’ll never be a snuggler, but she’s definitely become more social and approachable. Also? Poops landing outside the litterbox are now the exception, and no longer the rule.
I’m now glad I didn’t get another kitty right away. It gave my existing cat time to come into her own. I’m feeling a little guilty that it took 9 1/2 years for it to happen, and that I never realized that she was the way she was partly because Moze was so dominant and, well…Alpha, and partly because (and here’s where I feel like shit) I didn’t pay as much attention to her as I should have. Now SHE gets to be top cat. She talks to me all the time, takes naps with me on the weekend, she plays, chasing flies and spiders (but mainly her tail). And even though she only suffers being held just long enough to give her her kaopectate, she initiates petting sessions every night, and in the evenings you can often find her right beside me, occupying the arm of the couch…that place that used to be Moze’s domain.
I will eventually get a second cat, a kitten that Sassy can lord it over for her few remaining years (she’s 12). I’m just not in an all-fired-up hurry to do so anymore.
In the meantime, I’ve got my Sass, and you’ll now have to suffer the multitude of pictures of her, but at least she’s interesting.