Some people collect children to make their life fuller. I collect cats. Within one week of living on the other side of the globe, away from my precious feline friends, I had already gathered a crowd of furry felines to feed, play with and talk to.
Now, two months later, I am the cat sitter of the landlord and have taking in a stray mommy-to-be with the greenest eyes you have ever seen. My blood pressure has dropped and I often catch myself laughing really loud at their crazy-eye-wild-minutes.
My Partner once asked:” You claim to be an introvert, that you can be on your own easily, but can you be alone without cáts?” “Of course”, I replied.” I really love cats [and dogs, although my preference goes out to the furry autistic creatures], but it’s not necessary for my wellbeing to have a cat in the house.
I think I would also enjoy my house being clean and hairless, not having litter box sand/wood everywhere. Not having to be woken up at night from a claw in your eye socket because one wants to play/cuddle/is soaking wet from the rain/crawl under the blankets. To be able to put a glass of water somewhere without it being tapped over by a hairy psychopath.
To have plates and cups which are whole, i.e. without chips. To wear black clothing without anyone asking me: “Do you have a white cat?” And to eat cheese, eggs, spinach or bread without a little paw fishing for it.“
I was wrong.
Written during my time working and living in Zanzibar.