My cat is the love of my life. No one will ever come close to her in terms of excellence or importance. She stole my heart the moment I first set eyes on her, and my heart will remain in her care for the rest of eternity.
That being said, she’s easily the biggest turd on the planet.
I know she doesn’t mean to be. Cats operate in ways that don’t always make sense to us, especially since we live in a world where we expect every animal to behave like a dog. There are just some things my cat does that drives me up the wall when I’m at home with her for long periods of time.
Ironically enough, they’re also the things I miss most about her when I’m away at college.
Here are five of my favorite examples:
1. Love bites.
Some cats attack with their claws. Some can hold you down with a powerful glare that’s been passed down from their cat ancestors. My cat pounces and sinks her teeth right into whatever flesh is available.
Even when I’m just trying to pet her.
The bites she gives me are never hard. More often than not, they’re a warning that she’s overstimulated and doesn’t want attention at the moment. That doesn’t mean they don’t hurt, though. It’s kind of annoying to have to know when exactly to pull my hand away to avoid getting bitten.
However, when my mom calls me and tells me about how my cat has been biting everyone in the house, I can’t help but sigh wistfully. There’s nothing I want more than to be able to pet my cat, and if her teeth are part of that package, I’m absolutely willing to take the risk. I also know that I’m the one she bites the least, so the ones I get are incredibly special.
When my cat is restless and wants to be entertained, she displays a very classic cat behavior: being unable to stay in one room for more than five seconds. She’ll bump into my door to tell me she wants inside, then, as soon as I let her in and get comfortable again, she’ll meow for me to let her out. Repeat this about five times before I get tired and just start ignoring her.
Now that I’m in college, I wish I could hear her meowing outside my door again. Almost no one ever comes over for a surprise visit, not like she always does when I’m at home. Some days I try to imagine what it would be like to open the door and have her sitting there. I wouldn’t be able to let her out again, but it would still be nice.
3. Being woken up at the crack of dawn.
My cat sleeps in my room at home. She’ll come in after she’s done with her business for the night, and she’ll stay with me until the morning calls her to do her business again. I sleep with my door closed though, so she can’t come and go as she pleases. In order to get out, she has to get me to open the door.
She figured out how to do that very, very quickly.
With a few loud meows and a couple well-placed bites, she can get me clambering out of bed to open the door for her, no problem. She usually does this at about six in the morning. Every morning. No exceptions.
I really should be more grateful for that. How often can someone say that they have a pet and an alarm clock all rolled up into one cute little package? If I had something here that was so good at compelling me to get out of bed in the morning, I would get so much more homework done. If I could actually stay awake after, that is.
4. Cat hair everywhere.
I know what you’re thinking: how could anyone possibly miss cat hair? It’s messy, it’s hard to get rid of, and it exacerbates so many allergies that it’s just as bad as actually holding a cat.
Yes, you’re right. There’s absolutely nothing nice about having cat hair anywhere.
It’s just become such a habit for me that it feels weird not to have it. I miss my cat’s hair in the way you miss someone from your past.
You know the old saying: absence makes the heart grow fonder.
5. Finding seed pods in my bed.
You know those little brown or green spheres that stick to your clothes if you’ve been walking around in ivy in tall grass for a while?
In the summer, those little seed pods stick themselves to almost every square inch of my cat’s fur.
I’ll find them on her belly, under her chin, on all of her legs, and especially on her chest. The ones that I find are gently pulled off and thrown into the garbage. The ones I don’t find are quietly deposited in my bed for me to find later.
Usually when I lay directly on them.
It’s never fun to reach around and pull the offending bit of plant matter from underneath myself, but just like the cat hair, there’s something undeniably homey about it. A few months ago when I had just moved in and put some old stuffed animals on my bed, I found a seed pod attached to some of the synthetic furs. I had a brief moment of heartache as I gently detached the thing from my stuffie and tossed it into my garbage can.
As I said, absence makes the heart grow fonder.