Thursday, May 27, 2004
Rain…
Rain...I met Olive last night. She isn't the cat for me. And I am really okay with that fact. She was a very nice cat, but she would require loads of attention and love and cuddling. She was painfully timid and shy. Plus the lady fostering her didn't like me. I think she would have had a hard time letting me have the cat. We were doing okay until I sat on the floor, trying to get Olive out of her little box and my pants slid a little and exposed my tattoo. I glanced up at the lady and she had this totally disapproving look on her face. She just sort of closed down after that and I could tell she didn't think I was the right person for the cat. Which is fine.
Did I mention that the lady was a "crazy cat lady"? Yeah. Classic crazy cat lady. I called on the cat - got pre-interviewed by someone who then had this lady contact me. Okay. I called her back and it was her lunch hour. No big deal right? So we started to chat. Or should I say that she started to talk and never shut up! I was on the phone with her for 1/2 hour and hardly got a word in! She asked me one question and I had to interrupt her to answer the question! As she continued to talk, I started to get worried. She said something about "kitty time" where she regulates the cats to certain amounts of time they can spend with her. What? Are you kidding me? But no... She wasn't kidding. There were other parts of the conversation that tipped me off to her craziness that I can't remember at this point.
Finally, I got her to tell me where she lived and got a time to meet her. It was like pulling teeth. I wasn't sure it was ever going to happen.
I agreed to call her when I was on my way so that she could be prepared (because setting a time in advance doesn't give enough of a clue I guess...)so I called her. Yeah - I was on a cell phone, it was raining pretty hard, and the woman kept talking for like 10 minutes! She went on and on about her house and what it looked like and blah blah blah, I totally stopped listening. I just wanted to get there, meet the cat and get it over with.
Then I got there. It was a nice looking little house from the outside. A sunny yellow. Pretty. The only strange thing was that the shades were all drawn. I could see this happening on a sunny day, but it was rainy. I felt oppressed just thinking about the darkness within. Crazy cat lady has 4 cats living in a small house. I think my apartment is bigger than her entire house. I walked in and the first thing I smelled was the cat litter. Ewe. She had longish carpet - not full out shag, but pretty close - and it had cat hair all over it. I could tell what color it was supposed to be. So I walked in and she told me to have a seat. I was looking around thinking, okay where's the cat? Let's get started here! It's not like I came for small talk, I came to see Olive. Yeah.
Olive was in her "cat-condo" which consisted of a cardboard box with a hole cut out covered in bright orange furry fabric. She refused to come out. The crazy cat lady refused to pull her out so I could see her. Yeah. So I sat on the floor for like 15 minutes (at which time the crazy cat lady glimpsed my tattoo and gave me the glare) and tried to convince the cat that she should come out and see me. Finally I pulled her out so that I could see her.
I wasn't mean about it. If a cat really doesn't want to be handled it won't let you. The cat came out fairly quietly. I think I probably got a few more disapproving looks from crazy cat lady for the way I handled the cat. I got the distinct feeling that the lady felt I was man-handling the cat. So I set her on my lap and petted her for another 20 minutes or so. She was really sweet, but not for me. So I looked up at the clock and said "wow I didn't realize what time it is, I had better go." It took me another 20 minutes to get out the door, even after I had let the cat go back to safety and stood up and waited next to the door. The crazy cat lady pretty much refused to get up out of her recliner and see me out the door. She just kept talking. And talking. Finally I opened the front door and she stood up to lock it behind me.
It was a painful experience.
So, I am thinking that Saturday afternoon I will head over to the pound and visit some kitties there. No more of this foster home crap. I can't deal with crazy cat ladies any more.
I made Freeman promise me, that if I ever got more than 2 cats and decided to live in a secluded neighborhood and started acting like her, that he would help with an intervention. I'm going to hold all my friends to that. I never want to be a crazy cat lady.
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As you wake in the morning
What do you feel?
Does a rush of happiness
wash over you when,
Suddenly, you realize you are alive?
