About a year ago, I stopped at the local pub on my way home from work to say hi to some friends and have a quick beer. I had just sat down when outside the door I heard a familiar, "meooowwwwwbooowwrooo." Already having seven cats at home, I knew this sound well. I went outside, and there was a young black female cat, and as I stooped down to pet her, she jumped in my lap, motor purring on high, and thrilled to see me. I asked if anyone knew her and they said no, just that she would hang around occasionally. I called my husband and said that we would be having a temporary guest, at least to get her fixed and to find her a home. "Uh huh, yeah right" was his reply.

I put her in the car and to my surprise she rode backwards on the headrests all the way to the house. When we got home, she walked in like she owned the joint, and quickly did a meet and greet with everyone else. She had this air of "you will like me whether you want to or not." My husband, who is NOT a cat person also had to succumb to her charm. Every night she would crawl under the covers with him and as he gets up very early, they have coffee together. And she is the only one who gets warmed up milk, a la dad.

So, Mikka made herself part of the family. And she stayed. It wasn't like we had a choice.

A couple days ago, after she teased and tormented our foster puppy, Jesse, she went in for a snooze on dad's side of the bed. I thought this would be a great time to put her flea drops on her neck. As I did, she did a "reeewwooowwww hisssss" and took off, much to my surprise. The rest of the day she gave me the evil eye. I didn't think much of it, just that she would get over it. I was wrong. That night, as I lay in slumber and sweet dreams, at 2:00AM, I awoke to Mikka straddled to my head, peeing up a storm. I turned on the light with the "have you lost your mind?" sputtering from my lips, to which she casually replied with a sauntering swish of the tail, and a slow hop down off the bed. I swear I heard a that'll teach you coming from her mouth. I guess her point was that stinky wet fur on your head is not something to be tolerated, so now we have an agreement: I won't mess with hers, and she doesn't mess with mine. I will be hiding the flea medicine via pill form in food.

I fully expect to find a morsel of tuna delight somewhere in my dinner.

Copyright © Tracy Jordan
November 24, 2004