Sunday, April 5, 2009
The Cat Came Back...
This song has always bothered me. For all that it's a children's song, the lyrics always seemed far too disturbing to ever sing in front of a child. (Then again, there are a LOT of children's songs that are disturbing. Like this one... and I used to sing that one!)
But no, I didn't use that title for this post just to crab about children's music. Our cat, dear little Pinkerton, has been on my doodoo list for at least a year now. I don't know why I haven't ever really bonded with him. I like cats. I like them a lot! I put up with way more BS from Fuss than most cat-owners every would. But for some reason, Pinky just doesn't do it for me.
Maybe it's the obnoxious yowl he lets out anytime within 2 hours of mealtimes.
Maybe it's the yowling at the basement door to come up from the litter boxes.
Maybe it's the countless times I've found him eating my breakfast after I return from an emergency diaper change.
Maybe it's his penchant for getting locked in A's bedroom at night and M's bedroom during the day.
I dont' know, but I just don't find myself offering him much support when C mentions getting rid of the cat.
This evening, however, I find myself re-evaluating my feelings towards him. All last night I heard him howling from somewhere far from my bedroom. Since he often gets locked in the basement on accident, I wasn't too concerned. He was fine; unhappy, but fine.
It wasn't unti 10 o'clock in the morning that I realized that he hadn't been harassing me about being fed. In fact, his bowl was FULL of food. What's this? The bottomless pit hadn't eaten his breakfast? Was that breakfast or last night's dinner? Had Abby even fed him breakfast?
Thus begins the hunt. We can hear him yowling. It sounds like he's in the basement, or a closet or something. Not downstairs. Not upstairs. Not in the basement. Where can that cat be? It sounds like he's in the furnace ducts. That can't be right... the downstairs workroom? Wait a minute. Are those cat footprints in the snow on the front porch? Could he be outside?!
Yup. Poor cold Pinky had spent the night outside. ALL night. It snowed. It rained. It was cold.
So, I find myself in an odd position. Am I glad he came back? Would I have minded if he'd just disappeared? I mean, really, I care what happens to him because it would be cruel not to, I care about him at least that much, but...