As our more dedicated readers may remember, Jay doesn’t like cats. I would like to assure all of you that he does not speak for the entire brewery with his terrible, slanderous message of cat hate. A quick inventory of the brewery cousins this morning (13 employees pestered) noted more than seven cats listed in the ranks of pets (as well as 12+ dogs, one tortoise, and one fish). We like animals around here, all shapes and sizes. Occasionally, you can even see the unofficial mascot Red tromping around the front office.
I don’t know why Jay is such a grump about kitties, because my cat is the best. Audrey Murderclaw always goes potty in her box, (in her formative years, she lived in an area where adventuring outside was dangerous, hence the box) she doesn’t kill birds, (a side effect of said indoor childhood) she snuggles as much as possible and she even keeps me company as I get ready in the morning (the only brave soul capable of being around me in those evil hours). She greets people at the door, plays fetch with hair ties, has allowed the living room to be ruled by the interloper dog (our Miss Maggie May, referred to as Magpie) and she is more than happy to spend a weekend home alone.
Sure, she took to pooping on our guest bed for a year straight after friends who didn’t like cats slept in it. And it’s true she ensured I didn’t sleep for more than four hours in a row for the first year of her life because she discovered if we were asleep and she pawed the closet door just right, it would rattle and wake us. And it goes without saying locking her into a different room resulted in louder tantrums and property damage. Of course she was smart enough to avoid the spray bottle as soon as she saw us leaning towards it, thus making training incredibly frustrating. It’s no surprise as a kitten she managed to dismantle our entire Christmas tree for two years straight, or as an adult any flower arrangement that includes leaves are munched on and regurgitated, usually on a counter or table. And it’s a known fact that some cats carry toxoplasmosis in their poo. Sure, it’s safe to say her late night escapades led to us taking our time in “starting a family,” much to our parents chagrin.
All of those complaints are OK, because we were able to instead spend money on trips abroad for us, damage deposits for broken curtains caused by her spying on the neighbors, a tooth extraction and various appointments she needed after falling out of a tree last year. (Did I mention she spent her childhood indoors?) We are more than happy to spend any amount on vet bills, because she is what keeps me company during the dreaded Tax Season. (Hubs is a CPA. Don’t forget to pay your taxes by April 18th this year folks!) We feel privileged to feed her Science Diet food, because we saved money on heating because she always wants to sleep on us. And she saved us loads on rent over the last few years because we knew owning a home was cheaper in the long run because we didn’t have to pay pet deposits. She’s much more full of positives than negatives, she’s my best little buddy.
Really, cats are awesome. The down sides we notice reflect the fact that they are truly independent creatures who could just as easily live without us as they do with us and gentle reminders they could easily maim us if they so choose. Besides, without cats, how would we internet?
Author’s note: This blog was originally written on March 20th. She suddenly fell ill, and went to live on the sun soaked bed in the sky on the 26th. I would take many more years of sleepless nights to cuddle her again. Thank you, Audrey, you were truly the best.