Sunday, December 19, 2010

Christmas is for Cats


“Your cat will never threaten your popularity
by barking at three in the morning.
He won't attack the mailman or eat the drapes,
although he may climb the drapes
to see how the room looks from the ceiling.”
~Helen Powers~




Just as I am convinced there are no men out there between 35 and 45 who are attracted to well-educated, independent, family-oriented and really funny 30-something women, I am convinced there is no such thing as a "normal" cat.

This holiday I am particularly bound in my own solitude.  Somewhat by choice, and somewhat by the reality that most of my girlfriends have travelled afar to be with family this Christmas.  Which leaves me in the city alone, left to my own devices; going to the movies, the bookstore, coffee establishments and shopping all on my own. Not a bad fate to be doomed to I'd say.

Today, as my calling would have it, the taker-carer-of-things-while-"I"-am-away, I took a jaunt up to my friend Vicki's house.  She's a great pal, and a great mom, and a great laugh all rolled into one. She also happens to be a Newfie, and married to the most Newfie-est of men I have ever met (No offence to my other dear Newfie pals Jan and her hubby Jerry, or, as I refer to him as Jerry!).

They are parents to two wonderfully beautiful and intelligent little girls, the eldest of whom thinks that Auntie Trish is a combination cosmetics counter for the under 6 set and confectionery on wheels. 

What an honour it is to be held in trust to take care of their home this holiday.  Considering I worked with Vicki for a number of years, and she knows how very retarded I am with locks. One morning I spent three hours (no exaggeration here folks), trying to open the back door of what will remain and un-named funeral home.  As it turns out, even after fetching a second key, I did not have the wrong key, but alas, the wrong door.  I was trying to open up a closed down coffee shop. Yes, I was born blond.

Earlier in the week, upon arrival at her abandoned house for the first time, I was not surprised that a) I had forgotten the garage door opener, and b) I could not find the electronic code-pad-thingy to open the darn door.  I tried my key in the front door, but alas, Vicki's wise husband had locked that from inside. Go figure. What a genius he must be under that teddy bear exterior and goofy-newfie accent.  I'm glad she married such a smart man!

Anyway, after a cell phone call and text way across the waters to their homeland, I got the secret location of the security-code-pad-thingy.

I opened the door to the house, and voila - there it was -the land of all things kitty-food and litterish. Wonderful.  I heard the soft padding of feline feet behind me and turned, startled, to find not one, but two cats staring back at me.  I remember the one kitty, kind of brownish and tiger striped, but not the other one. I wondered if Felix or Felix-ette had invited a friend over and was having some uncensored kitty-shindig while the owners were away.  This unknown second cat was the ugliest and fattest cat I have ever seen in my life, and believe me, I've seen a few cats. 

She/he is HUGE. I decided that she (I'm going to call her "she" because there's something ungodly stately about this thing, and only a female can have that kind of presence) belonged here because she was too well groomed, and way too well fed to NOT belong to someone.  You can't help but love an animal that ugly. She is so ugly, she's cute, kinda like a cabbage patch doll or one of the Statler brothers. You know what I mean.

Anyway, upon my return to the house, I was prepared to be greeted by both kitties. I gave them more food and refreshed their water, and had the distinct joy of sifting through the clumping cat litter.  These cats have bladders the size of grown humans! I swept the floor and got rid of the bag of treats the Santa-cats had left for me in the litter box. 

They're still not too sure of me, but came for some pets anyway as I sat in the hallway.  They must have caught the scent of my cat on me and decided that I was ok after all.  All three of us took our business into the kitchen where I began to water the plant. I hope it's plant not plant"s" or, I hate to tell you Vicki, the rest of your plants will require immediate disposition upon your return.

So, as I was filling up cup-fulls of water for Mr. Plant, the doorbell rang. What the?! Who on earth was at the door. I didn't know anyone in the neighbourhood, and I hoped that it was one of the Newfie relatives I had met while visiting my friend. I opened the door to find a very short, very inquisitive, very foreign man looking up, way up to me through his large, thick glasses.

"Can I help you?", I asked, only opening the door enough to peek my head outside just in case some reasonably tall and burly men had accompanied said little man to break into the house. At least I was about a foot taller than him. If he was some kind of house spying weirdo at least I had a height advantage. Besides, I've been dying to do some kind of flying-elbow-headlock move on somebody.  I'm just silly like that sometimes. Alas, this guy looked more like a librarian than a burgler.

"I'm the neighbour", he said politely, nodding his head to the next house " I didn't have a chance to come over before he left. Are they away?". Now, what the heck do you say? I didn't want to be an ass and tell him it was none of his business. I didn't want to tell a perfect stranger that yes, the house was abandoned and open to all types of thieving robbery. So, I told him a modicum of truth; that I was taking care of the house and would be staying there. I added that I worked long hours and didn't always have my car, so that was no indication of whether I would be home or not.  I wished him a Merry Christmas and shut the door. I locked it up super-tight again, and then turned around to two very large, very wide-eyed cats.

I'm not sure what it is with cats and doors. It's like every time there's a knock or doorbell going off, they run for cover like it's 1961 in Vietnam.  I've never seen animals that fat run so fast! I don't know if it was all running, or that they lost control somewhere between the front hall rug and the dining room table.  I thought the ugly one was going to slide right through the patio doors. The other one skittered around and then turned, charged the door and bounded up the stairs. 

I carried on watering the plants, and retrieved my scarf and coat. Both kitties poked their heads around the corner as I bent over to zip up my very fabulous boots. Why the hell do I waste my fabulous boots on two cats? Because I'm a good friend to a good friend, that's why.
Off I went, knowing that the kitties heart rates would indeed slow down.  Of course I had to enter the secret door code at least four-flipping times to get the door to shut again, but it's closed firmly now.

Even though she's away until only goodness knows when and dependent on good weather so the  ferry is able to run, I know that when my friend comes back we'll have a good old-fashioned kitchen visit. There's nothing like looking forward to a cup of tea with a really good friend to make you feel like Christmas. 

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