After years — decades, even — of existing in my own cat-free zone, I’m back to living in a cathouse. Richard and Julianne are here for a visit, and they brought their cat Froli and their dog Pretty along with them.
Even a non-cat person like me can see that Froli is a beautiful cat, with bright green eyes and jet-black fur. She seems wary by nature, and it took a while for her to get her bearings in the new place. Pretty, on the other hand, just plopped down on the floor like she’d been here a thousand times before. Now that Froli is used to the place, she’s acting like she owns the place, too. No table, counter, shelf, or other surface is immune from a Froli prowl and exploration, and she’s apt to be found lounging and stretching just about anywhere.
We last had a cat back in the early ’90s, when we briefly provided services for an extremely haughty and diffident cat named Baby who vanished after we moved to a new house. Since then, dealing with nothing but dogs, I’ve forgotten my cat lessons and lost my cat reflexes. I’ve been startled by Froli’s leaping ability, her sudden movements, and her ability to silently appear just about anywhere when you least expect it. She’s already scaled the screens on our windows and doors in her ceaseless quest to get outside and check out the neighborhood, and I’ve relearned the need to move quickly coming in and out so she can’t dart by.
When Froli jumps up next to you and hits you with her searching, green-eyed gaze, you wonder what she’s thinking. With Pretty, on the other hand, you have a pretty good idea that she either (1) wants to be petted, or (2) wants to be fed.
I’m not sure that I’ll ever be a cat person, but it’s interesting being around a cat again.