We have cats. We have lots of cats. If I didn't already have Andy and later Trinity in my life, I was in danger of being one of those creepy cat ladies who dies alone with lots of cats. Well now I'll have Andy and Trinity as well as lots of cats... But our reason for having so many cats is not creepy, it's because we're soft-hearted suckers in a town where people never spay or neuter their pets, and then toss off the kittens not long after they've arrived. All four of our current resident furry friends were treated in just that way. We took them in, bathed them, treated their illnesses and injuries, and most importantly, named them. At this point if a kitten is referred to as anything beyond "palm kitty" (because they are usually so small) I know it's not leaving. Once it's got a name, it's a keeper.
I think we've reached our quota of cats for the time being. Or I should say, I've reached my quota of male cats. Although our three little boys are cuddly, affectionate, and have lovely personalities, they are boys, and boys will be boys. It used to be that only the alpha male was being a "boy" by marking his territory. All that changed at some point. We think it was when the fearless white Tom cat of unknown origins repeatedly entered our house, ate our cats' food, and took naps on the couch. That riled up all the boys who rightfully lived here, and they all started marking territory.
It's one thing if the territory is in the garden outside, but the living-room couch, the wheels of the stroller and the corner in Trinity's bedroom is quite another. And since it's three boys working the territory, we go through a lot of Nature's Miracle solution in this house. It makes me so irritated that I want to wish bad things on my pets, but then I remember bedtime.
Bedtime is quite a warm and cozy thing with four cats. When I was pregnant with Trinity, I suddenly became a cuddle-magnet for the cats. It must have had something to do with the hormones, but the cats were just all over me, and occasionally they would fight over who got the prime spot, my tummy. I would wake at night, completely pinned down with cats around my legs, hips and on my body. The cats have continued to find me their ideal snooze partner for the 2 1/2 years after Trinity's birth. I've now become more or less accustomed to the acrobatics that I have to perform in order to get out from under cats and out of my bed.
Today I experienced the ultimate compliment, which I'm not sure I'll ever get used to. Hobbes, our resident ginger cat and virtual Corby reincarnation, is my most persistent fan. Sometimes, he doesn't even wait until I'm lying down in bed before he makes a beeline for my body. If I'm too slow at getting settled, he starts to mew loudly. He's always the one who gets my tummy for the first shift of the night, and if something wakes him up later in the night, he comes back for more. This morning, after I did a quick yoga session and was tidying up, Hobbes came up to me. I said hi to him, but he turned around, so I thought he was on his way to some other important destination. Instead of walking away, he backed up against me and started that little tail quiver that means the Nature's Miracle bottle is about to get used up. I yelled when I saw what he was doing, but too late. He actually marked ME. Well, obviously I quickly washed it off, but he marked ME as his territory. So, for the first (and hopefully only) time in my life, I can say that I was both pissed off and pissed on!
