Kitty Obsession -- Kiki Cark
I have a new addiction these days, and she's covered with fur. I'm driven to touch Musette, talk to her, take photos and blog about her, buy her toys, and play with her. When she's not in sight, I wonder where she is, and when I'm touching her, I wonder what I can do to keep her there.
I've always owned cats. They've all been good, and I've loved every one. But Musette isn't just the crack cocaine of kitties, she's the heroin of all felinedom. All I'm missing are the needle tracks on my arms, and that's because she's so sweet, she never scratches.
She just walked in, announcing her presence with her little rasping meow, and my response was the usual: a sort of gasping coo -- the noise small children make when they see a Christmas tree or get a pony. I spend my days giving her my treasured belongings to see if they make good toys, moving her bed to see which spot she likes the best, and marveling that, even with all my attention, she still runs up and throws herself on my feet, rolling over so I'll pet her soft, warm belly while she makes happy little squeaking noises.
I carry a digital camera with home movies of her. I made a bracelet with her picture and I show it, not only to friends, but to cashiers at grocery stores. I tried five different kinds of treats to find her favorite, including venison jerkey and shaved bonito. Once, I cleaned poop out of her long fur, with my fingers.
Lest you think I'm ruining her, let me also say that I taught her what "No," means, which includes not scratching the couch, not climbing the screen door, not running outside at night, not jumping off the deck or getting on the kitchen table. But that doesn't mean I'm not obsessed. Today I taught her a trick. She'll jump into her foam igloo bed while I hold it a foot off the ground. How fantastic is that? Musette is the smartest, funniest, cutest, prettiest, softest, most acrobatic cat in my world. Now if you'll excuse me, I have things to do.