We got a cat.
You know, because I have ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ELSE going on in my life right now.
Nothing at all.
Now, for many of you, this is probably not that big of a deal.
But, when I posted something on Facebook alluding to said feline, I literally had 4 phone calls in minutes.
“YOU got a cat?????!!! NO. WAY.”
Because you see…I’m not much of an animal person to begin with…but cats…for sure my least favorite.
You know those bumper stickers that say “The only good cat is a dead cat”?
Or “The best place for a cat is under my tires”?
I mean, I don’t actually *have* one of those on my car or anything…but they DO make me giggle.
Shy of claiming temporary insanity for this out of character addition to the fam, there is a deliberate reason for, you know, “The Cat”.
Andy and I have spent a good chunk of change, and many many many hours of sweat equity transforming our once dirt backyard into a happy colorful garden that invites chirping birds and fluttering butterflies.
Every year, we spend another good chunk of change and many many hours…hunting gophers. Gophers who ruin my pretty grass. Gophers who eat the roots of my HYDRANGEA BUSHES. Gophers who are gross and disgusting and are not welcome. No sir.
And we may or may not have even seen a giant RAT scurry across our brick wall late one night.
So, for the last couple of years, we’ve contemplated a cat. An outdoor cat. An outdoor cat who will scare away gophers and other varmints.
The cat’s name is Optimus.
You know, as in Optimus Prime from Transformers. Duh.
I’m hoping he’s as valiant and action packed as his namesake.
Sure, the timing is atrocious, but I can’t really control when my friend’s outdoor cat gets knocked up and that 8 weeks later happens to be the same week my girl takes a couple of rides in an ambulance.
“Fate rarely calls upon us at a moment of our choosing.” At least that’s what Optimus says in the second movie. I’ll take that as a sign.
It’s just how these things go sometimes.
Besides, waiting any longer and I’ve got a newborn. 6 or one half dozen the other. Or whatever the saying is.
Except that Andy’s beginning to worry he might be too docile for hunting.
After all, the sheer number of hugs, kisses and scratches under the chin and behind the ears is pretty astronomical.
But Optimus does come when you call him. Like a dog. Which makes me like him a little more.
And I will admit that Optimus is pretty cute.
But he’s a baby. All animals are cute as babies.
I bet an armadillo is super cute as a baby too.
And you don’t see me wanting an armadillo plodding around the backyard.
(Actually, now that I think of it, having an armadillo just chillin’ in the yard would be pretty cool. In fact, I take that back. I totally want an armadillo now.)
So far, the cat thing is fine.
But dealing with the kids who want to CONSTANTLY touch and hold and pet and otherwise terrorize the poor creature…that’s another story altogether.
It’s been 48 hours and I’ve already threatened to take him back to Miss Tracy.
“Look Mommy! He likes to be up on my shoulder!”
He looks thrilled, Son.
Optimus sleeps in the garage and the last two mornings, Henry has padded downstairs at 6:15 to “cuddle”.
It’s cute. I mean, considering it’s a cat and all.
The dogs are mostly intrigued…but Optimus isn’t a fan of two 90 pound canines getting up in his space.
He hisses and arches his back and took a swipe at Abbie’s nose earlier. (Which secretly made me happy. Abbie needs someone to put her in her place.)
So I’m hoping that if he can throw down with a couple of dogs 10 times his size, he can punk a gopher.
My money’s on Optimus.
That, or he’s going back to Miss Tracy’s.
Jill is mostly unimpressed.
Which basically means she’s his favorite kid and cuddles up to her often since she leaves him alone.
So I guess that’s the big news.
We have a cat.
His name is Optimus.
And he has to work for his room and board.
I like him more than I thought I would but he’s still not coming inside and walking his nasty litter box paws all over my countertops.