People, if I could have gotten any picture for you yesterday, I wish I’d gotten the picture of the Butcher, gone into the garage to check on the new cat, when he was squatting down to pet it while it ate and he looked up and saw me looking at him out the kitchen door window and he didn’t smile, but his left dimple got so deep that I knew his heart was stolen.
So, believe me, it was no surprise today when I saw the new cat sleeping in an afghan-lined box top, tucked between the steps and the dryer, protected from the cold and nestled in the best spot to take advantage of the heat of the house. It looked up at me from its Butcher-made nest, as if to say, “The only way this could be any more awesome is if you let me in the house.”
I have to admit, I don’t quite understand the concept of “buying” a cat. That’s not to say that I don’t blame people for doing it. But in my whole life, I’ve hardly even ever set out to get a cat, let alone buy one. Cats seem to come into your life when they’re ready for it, and it doesn’t have much to do with what you intend. They howl at you when you’re down at Love at First Sight, thinking you’re going to get a dog; or they howl at you from your garage when they’re ready to come in the house. They just wander in and make themselves at home, usually when you’re completely unprepared.
The Butcher and I think that the new cat might not be very new to anyone but the humans. We’ve known for some time that someone has been eating the dog and cat food in the garage. That’s why we moved the cat food into the house. Though, we thought it was raccoons or dogs, not a kitten. So, bless its heart, it’s probably been trying to subsist on dog food, which is just not, as you know, nutritionally balanced for cats. And then when we ran out of dog food and I brought a little bag and put it in the house? Well, that must have been the crisis situation.
So, there’s the missing pet food.
And there’s the complete disinterest the other cats show in the new cat. They walk right by it in the garage, no problem. Even the dog didn’t bother to come into the kitchen when the new cat snuck in last night, as if the new cat was a smell Mrs. Wigglebottom was already familiar with.
And, hilariously, when the new cat snuck into the kitchen, it made a bee-line for the dog food.
Tiny Cat Pants 