I like to think I’m quite a free-thinking independent human being so I am struggling a bit to work out how it has come about that I have been domesticated by the cat- or in my case four of them.
If any of you are cat owners- and I use the term loosely as I now firmly believe they own us- you will understand where this is headed.
It has been going on for some considerable time. Ten years ago we were a cat free household then the munchkins and I spent two weeks visiting relatives in a cat filled house in the USA. When we returned home Boy Child was so miserable about leaving the cats behind that we decided to adopt a rescue cat. (Conspiracy theory here- the cats are all in cahoots!)
Enter Dixie into our lives. The flood gates may as well have opened! Long story cut short- Dixie was an old lady, hated boys, suffered ill health and was only ruling the roost for eight short months. In that brief space of time however we became the adoptive humans of a black fluffy, half Siamese, half Persian male kitten called Sioux. When Dixie passed away Sioux was lonely- enter Gandalf, another rescue cat (I could and probably will fill a whole blog at a later date on him alone) All too soon Sioux and Gandalf had us well trained as to when and what they wanted to eat, when they wanted in and when they wanted out and as to how much of the bed they intended to occupy each night.
A few years down the line the munchkins (obviously brain washed by their feline masters) convinced the Big Green Gummi Bear and I that we needed to adopt a third feline member of the household. Enter Pythagoras who had repeatedly featured in the local paper as the pet of the week in need of a good home. Cue a whole new set of household rules as the three male cats learned to live together and to live with us. It took a while – and the arrival of a fourth feline- before Gandalf and Pythagoras could tolerate being in the same room as each other.
Two years ago the fourth- and final (for now) – feline joined this motley crew. Frankenstein, yet another rescue kitty, came to stay. My domestication was almost complete. Poor Frankenstein, through no obvious fault of his own, had had four homes in two years. As soon as I saw his big blue eyes and heard that charismatic purr …well the rest is history.
Now we live by a strict set of felines dictates-
*Gandalf only enters and leaves via the front door.
Pythagoras prefer to come and go via the first floor windows, having climbed over the garage roof to get there.
Sioux and Frankenstein require cold meat prior to any human resident being served breakfast
In the middle of the night if the scratching is at the carpet at the door of the bedroom- Pythagoras wants out.
In the middle of the night if the scratching is at the chest of drawers- Sioux wants out.
In the middle of the night if the scratching is at the side of the bed- Gandalf wants out
If in the middle of the night a cat is clambering over your head purring incessantly- Frankenstein wants out.
If a cat- any cat- is sitting in front of the narrow cupboard in my kitchen- it wants fed.
If after dishing up a tasty meal it returns to the cupboard- it wants a different flavoured dinner.
If the cat was on the seat first don’t waste your time moving it- it will only return to sit on you.
If the cat’s in the bed first- sleep elsewhere!
The ancient Egyptians worshipped cats as Gods. Mine have never forgotten this fact.