Life With Cats

I walk into the kitchen to find 3 of the peaches I bought from a roadside stand are on the floor. One of them had very obviously been knocked around. I clean them up and put them back on the counter. When I come back later, I find the knocked-around one is back on the floor. My wife made a peach crisp so the peaches didn’t go to waste.

I hear noises from the other room. Is that Lillie cat playing with a toy? Or up to mischief? Guess I better go check.

I’m greeted in the room where our scaredy cat lives with loud demands for food. I prepare her food and serve her. She only licks the sauce off the food, leaving the meat behind. Then she complains that the goodness is gone.

It’s a given that toilet paper has to be hidden or it will be ripped to shreds. Sometimes, paper towels, too. Boxes must be covered in tape or with a sheet to survive.

We never get to use the bathroom without supervision. If you close the door to keep them out, they stand outside and complain. If you let them in, they give you maybe 3 seconds to do your business before they demand strokes and brushing.

It’s a good day when I can use my office at home for more than an hour without one of them caterwauling outside the door.

Don’t even get me started on cat barf and how they just don’t ever want to do it on tile, no, it must be on carpet.

Still and all, when one of them strops me to mark me as theirs, when they show their appreciation for my playing with them, or when they lie on me and purr, it’s all worth it.