Don't Take the Cat
Trust is a fragile thing—especially when it comes wrapped in fur and vengeance.
We care for a cat. I don’t love cats, but I tolerate this one. She loves this cat. Not as much as the dog she had when I met her, but I can tell this cat is something special. Honestly, I wish she talked to me the way she talks to this dumb cat.
Jealousies. Not of the cat, exactly—but of the ease between them.
The creature came to us by accident, during the coldest winter we’d ever experienced.
My wife spotted something living in a box near our home. A closer look through binoculars revealed a big, gray, not entirely unattractive ragdoll cat. At first, she just felt sorry for it. So she started feeding it cans of tuna. My tuna.
Over a few weeks, she managed to coax it from the box—at first just by letting it see her. I grew tired of the disappearing tuna and eventually bought a case of actual cat food. This allowed my wife the luxury of Hansel-and-Greteling the animal to our doorstep. It learned that, around the same time each day, a free meal awaited. Like a feline soup kitchen.
One day, she left the garage door ajar. The cat, following the scent of that stinky nectar, crept inside. Once it was far enough in, she simply closed the door.
The first time, the animal panicked—bolting, scrambling, hurling itself toward every exit. But my wife released it. And the next time, she released it again. Eventually, the cat relaxed.
And then one night, it didn’t leave. Just stayed. And became our ward.
From the beginning, I established some ground rules:
* I pet, she feeds.
* No clawing the furniture.
* Toilet duty is hers.
And for three years, that’s how we’ve kept the peace.
It turned out this wasn’t a feral cat after all, but an abandoned one—already spayed, microchipped (no response from the family when contacted), and very, very housebroken.
A unicorn, as far as I was concerned.
But lately, we are at odds.
As we prepped for a road trip, my beloved floated the idea of taking the cat with us. “Let’s just see how she does in the van,” she said. YouTube has taught us nothing if not that road-trippers love dragging all manner of beasts across the country with them, especially cats.
So we tried. The cat was skittish when the van door shut—which we expected. She darted all over, squeezing into nooks and crannies, taking in the strange new world with wide eyes.
After half an hour, she seemed to calm. We grew confident. We started the engine, backed out of the driveway.
The vehicle lurched. The cat froze. Panic took root. I glanced back and saw it: a shimmer of liquid pooling at the base of her foot, right on our freshly made cushions.
“Stop! Open the door!”
Out the terrified cat flew.
We then spent four hours removing every cushion, unzipping the covers, scrubbing them with vinegar, washing the foam blocks, and wiping down all the electrical components that had received a generous baptism of cat urine.
My wife has an incredible sense of smell. Truly—a superpower. I’d wipe down a surface, and she’d find a new drip pool I’d missed. Over and over.
What a night. After a day of excitement and anticipation, we were wrecked. At three in the morning, we collapsed. It would take a full day for the cushions to dry and everything to be put back together.
The silver lining? Our obsessive, anxiety-fueled cleaning eliminated the blight completely. After baking in 90º weather for a few hours, there wasn’t a trace of the smell left.
The lesson?
If a cat ever looks at you with trust, remember: it’s just plotting its next act of indoor terrorism.
#essay #cat #100DaysToOffload #Writing
Matthew 27:62-66
The next day, which was after the Preparation, the chief priests and the Pharisees gathered together before Pilate, 63 saying: “Sir, we recall what that impostor said while he was still alive, ‘After three days I am to be raised up.’ 64 Therefore, command that the grave be made secure until the third day, so that his disciples may not come and steal him+ and say to the people, ‘He was raised up from the dead!’ Then this last deception will be worse than the first.” 65 Pilate said to them: “You may have a guard. Go make it as secure as you know how.” 66 So they went and made the grave secure by sealing the stone and posting a guard.
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