I woke up this morning to this sight (and pretty much every morning these days):
My cat Nermal makes this “thunk” sound as she hops from my bed to her favorite perch in my bedroom, the right corner of my long dresser that offers her full access to my window overlooking my suburban landscape.
If you’ve been following along, you know that I took over care of this feisty feline last July when my boyfriend Ted moved into his cat-free abode. When she first moved in, I was concerned about how the heck I would care for her but by now, just shy of a year later, I’m smitten.
I should say “we’re smitten.” There’s a definite love affair going on between me & Nerms. She hates it when I hug her or hold her, but if I’m out of her sight for 5 minutes, I can hear her waddling along to my destination. Yep, she follows me to the bathroom. She sleeps on my bed. She naps with me on the couch. And when I get out of the shower, my great protector is waiting for me outside the door. Sometimes I expect her to hand me my towel.
Ok, so I’m the keeper of her food, so I have the upper hand. But the joy she provides to me is unprecedented. I really have never known what is like to have a pet unless you count Katie, my trusty tadpole. Or, those poor goldfish you’d get year after year at the Purim Carnival. Sadly they barely even made it home in those rubber banded plastic baggies.
Nermal can be mean. She tries to escape every time I take out the trash. She scratched me the other night for changing the sheets on my bed. But, when she’s behaving, she’s so loving. I wouldn’t trade her for anything!