I'm married to my cat. Apparently. When I go out, whether to a party or grocery shopping, he sees it as a betrayal of some kind. As soon as I walk in the door, he's all over me, sniffing, seeing what other cats I might have been visiting or worse, having petting relations with. God forbid I should run across a dog. If he smells my betrayal, there are no ends he won't go to punish me. From the resentful looks to the snubs if I try and stroke him, to puking on my pillow, he will be sure I suffer for having the gall to touch another animal. To him, I've been unfaithful.
My marriage to my cat has lasted longer than any marriage to a man, 10.5 years and counting so far. He doesn't sleep with me, but he's there first thing in the morning to wake me up with a ball of fur in the face, the closer to his butt, the better, yes he'd sit right on my face if he didn't think that would rule out getting fed right away. All bets are off though if I've visited other cats recently.
I fantasize about other cats, wishing for a bit of variety, one more affectionate perhaps, one more silly and playful, a black furred beauty or perhaps a Maine Coon, my favorite kind. One look at Romeo (yes I named him for those star crossed lovers), and I know I'm just dreaming. I've tried to get him a buddy cat, he won't have it, never mind trying to get a dog. I watch others with their multi-pet households in envy, wishing my cat would let me have another pet. I've never seen a cat go as insane as he does when there's another animal nearby, especially a cat that he might have to compete with for my affections. I've given up after the 3rd failed attempt had him not eating for a week...just to show me who was boss. Ironic, since he came from a household of multiple cats and dogs, guess he had enough of that early on?
He loves to haunt me like a ghost if I happen to be busy not paying him the constant undivided attention he feels he deserves (but rarely tolerates for longer than 5 minutes at a time). If I'm on the computer, he's not happy unless he's walking all over the keyboard, and if I'm reading a book, he needs to be all over the pages. When I try to ignore him, he will just walk in circles around me, what I consider "haunting" me, until i finally relent and notice him, then he's ecstatic enough to go off and do mysterious kitty things again.
He's an orange tabby whose tiger stripes seem to be fading into the orange as the years go by. He never plays with the toys I buy him, shunning them for unexpected pleasures with bugs--especially the flying kind he can rarely catch--or electric cords attached to devices precariously near the edge of a surface, that he will "accidentally" yank down. Paper bags are his extreme sport, although a laser light will get his attention every time, and catnip is his drug of choice. Only with a pile of catnip will he get silly enough to tolerate me laughing at him.
Early on I'd bought him this long fingered glove with pom-poms on the end, one I expected to wear on my hand and dangle the balls for him to bat around. He growled on introduction to this toy, grabbed the finger poms in his sharp teeth and ran off with it. This is the one toy he will not share, but his use of it is the funniest thing he does. I call it his sex toy, for he holds a pom in his mouth and drags the other finger poms between his hind legs, turning in a circle and making this godawful sound, not sure if it's pleasure or pain, then he falls over and licks himself in satisfaction, best not to watch.
