My parents are in North Carolina, and so this week I am at their house to feed the cats, water the plants, and perform the asundry household duties that did not depart with the residents of the house. (BTW, Harrisburg, this means we should hang out.)
To avoid having to drive back to Westminster every day to take care of my own cats, I’ve brought them with me. We (by “we” I mean “the cats and I”) had a fairly hellish hour and twenty minute drive during which they cried almost non-stop — interrupting themselves only to pant like they were dying. The air conditioning in my car isn’t working right now. I felt horribly guilty for putting them through such agony, but I kept telling them it would be worth it when we arrived because they’d have a whole new world to explore and we’d be on vacation! so we could just lie on the couch and cuddle, maybe fall asleep in the sun, and, most of all, enjoy the climate-controlled environment of my parents’ home.
When we finally arrived, I set up their litter box, put out some food and water, and let them out of their carriers. They ran into my sister’s room and hid under a chair. I sat in the hallway calling them until they came to see what the fuss was about. They sniffed everything. They peered through the windows at the cats lounging on the porch. They even ate a little. I sat on the floor with them for fifteen minutes until they were finally comfortable enough to sprawl out on their backs and start purring. I thought that was a good sign, so I got up and made myself something to eat. Apparently that was not okay.
That was four hours ago. They’ve been hiding under the hutch at the end of the hallway ever since. They poke their noses out when I sit in front of it, but despite my cajoling, they will not come out. I’ve tried to explain that there’s nothing to be afraid of — even that the furniture is more afraid of them than they are of it. But they won’t come out. I’ve pleaded with them to please come keep me company, I love them, I promise I won’t let anything hurt them, I won’t use the microwave or flush the toilet or do anything else that might make an unexpected noise. But they won’t come out.
It’s lonely here in this big house with no one around. I was looking forward to their company. I just have to keep reminding myself that they do love me — that their fear is not of me, but despite me. And although it’s dangerous to keep my hopes up, I have to believe that they will come out, and we will spend a wonderful week cuddling on the couch and sleeping in the sun. They’re just waiting for the right moment. In the meantime, I have a lot of laundry to do.
last time i took care of cats was my friend/band mate griff’s cats, well his family’s i guess. it was okay but one night i forgot to let him back inside because i went tttttto see sonic youth
sonic youth was awesome
meandering around calling for a cat was not awesome
PS choose a week end soon (not this weekend as i am hella busy) and we can ride buses
This little episode reminded of the bit from the film “CQ” when Paul tells Valentine she should make a wish, to which she replies, “I wish cats could talk.”