I stumbled along the darkened hallway in the middle night thanks to my dinner experiment – I had substituted several glasses of water in place of tastier portions of my meal. That night, my bladder rustled me out of a deep sleep with threats of turning my mattress into a water-bed.
So I staggered along in a barely-awake stupor. In the middle of the hallway cloaked in midnight, I heard a sickening squish. The unappetizing sound stopped me dead in my tracks. The nauseating noise wakened my brain enough to recoil at the oozing sensation between my toes.
I frantically groped for the nearby light switch and flipped it on. But without my glasses, I could only see blobs of gray and brown on the floor and seeping across the top of my pink feet. My bladder decided it could wait a few more minutes while I dealt with this unexpected horror.
Fully awake and hobbling on my heels, I tottered to the bathroom and into the bathtub. There I began washing away the remains of either a very small, juicy kitten or a very large, pulpy hairball.
If you picked hairball, my love, you won. But what can you expect from a long-haired cat?
In fact, what should I have expected from your long-haired cat? Certainly the clumps of hair all over the house, occasionally some held together by feline stomach contents. Certainly the addition of scratches and stains – a few resembling the profiles of famous dead people – on carpets, furniture, and hardwood floors. Certainly the cat's box sandy grit expelled and laying in wait to pierce the bottoms of unsuspecting bare human feet. Certainly the unreimbursed expenses for animal food and kitty litter.
These past few months have reminded me about the differences between cats and dogs. A dog may be a man's best friend, but a cat is definitely a cat's best friend. You give a dog a command and they'll usually obey it; you give a cat reasonable proposition and hope for the best. Dogs have jumped into my lap because they love me; your cat jumps into my lap only because my lap is warmer.
But this isn't about one type of pet verses another. I sat on the edge of tub that late night with my over-filled bladder prompting for attention while I scrapped your cat's latest offerings from my feet. Then I recalled you saying how much you miss your baby - your cuddly critter. So what better Christmas present than to strain my credit cards and pay your apartment's animal deposit.
Your cat will be with you before the last store closes for the holidays, before the first disappointing present is unwrapped, before you can say, "What else did you get me?"
Merry Christmas, my dear.
