Ever since a trip to Punderson a few years ago, leaving our cat Dax at home for more than a few days is a toss up as to which kind of cat we’ll have when we get back. Either she’ll be the lovey, snuggly cat, who missed her humans, or she’ll be the living terror that has peed on everything in the house.
This last trip we got the latter (though she tried to make up for it with some purry snuggling nonetheless). The last few days have brought new discoveries and new locales. Typically she just likes to pee on the front and back doors, but now she added the sink and our piano. Fortunately in both cases the damage was minimal.
Our cat adopted us a little more than four years ago on Halloween night, running up onto the porch on beggar’s night and refusing to leave. Us keeping her rather than giving her to a shelter was entirely my fault. I decided at a critical moment to quote scripture, whatever you do for the least of these you do for me. She was thin and in need and we helped her. And we do love her.
On a completely separate note Brian and I were having a conversation a few weeks ago with a woman who was describing a restaurant she went to out east (not the east coast rather, but China and the surrounding countries). She said that the only things with four legs they didn’t eat were tables and chairs. Writing this as my cat tries to suck up to me because she suspects what I’m writing I think, just for a second, they might have the right idea.
But isn’t she cute?
My wife is right, this cat is totally my fault.
[BTW] : Ben Trube, Writer 