I have often pondered if my beloved cat, Sienna had any sort of mental deficiency. Perhaps it had to do with a traumatic past, as hers was less than pleasant. The feisty feline often finds herself locked in cupboards, fridges and empty rooms. She sleeps on doorframes and licks windows. She ineffectively tries to hide in my jumpers, whilst I am wearing them might I add, and I am fair sure that the amount of fur she sheds is borderline demonic. Or perhaps godly, whichever one involves more fur.
This instance is just one of many a strange happenings in which she is given the lead role.
Now, I live by my lonesome, so I tend to shower with the door open, so the tiny mirrors in my bathroom don’t fog up. Why? Because I am a woman, I don’t need logic, in fact I probably function better without it. The presence of sense or logical/tactical planning and actions would more than likely cause my meek brain to spontaneously combust. When showering I hear Sienna meowing, with a rather pathetic tone of despair upon her vocal chords.
So, I peered out from my tasteless heart covered shower curtain to see her teetering on the edge of the bath, looking up at me with sad doe eyes. I pushed her off and continued my daily ritual of cleaning away the dirt that had decided to stick ever so stubbornly to my skin. Again, I hear her meowing, so I pull the curtain to the side expecting to push her off or away from the steaming cascade of water.
Boy was I wrong.
She had chosen to fling her furry body into my wet unclothed one, perhaps in an attempt to comfort herself, or annoy me. Perhaps she was just curious about the water coming from the showerhead. Who knows, all I knew is that I was wet, naked and had a now wet and furry cat in my arms.
I’d just like to point out that it is a rather unnerving and uncomfortable feeling to be pelted in the back by water, whilst holding a shivering cat, who could potentially snap at any second and claw little tiny holes into my delicate meaty skin.
After what seemed like an eternity, but was more than likely a few seconds, she had chosen to jump down from my arms, and instead of fleeing from the room she chose to sit at the opposite end of the bath, staring at me and expecting me to do something.
She looked like a sad, drowned rat.
What am I? Some sort of miracle worker? Do I snap my fingers and she becomes dry? No, no I am not a miracle worker, if I was I certainly wouldn’t b
e standing there naked in a bath with my pet cat. Then again I am a bit of an oddball and such a thing might just occur even if I did have miracle like powers.
I finished bathing, dried off, got dressed then attempted to towel off my cat. Who was more than appreciative.
To this day, I still do not know why she decided to join me in the shower, but now, whenever I step into the cleansing waters and I hear her the eerie echoing cries I choose to leave the shower curtain safely closed.
One day, I know she will figure out that she can easily pass through said curtain, I dare not think about such a dark day. For now, all I can do is shower in cautious optimism in hopes that such a day will never come.
That feeling, not fear, but dread. Unmistakable and undeniable, as you reach out to those you love only to find that you have naught but yourself. You try to stwin against the currents but they're too strong, they say when it rains, it pours. You become drenched, cold and wet. All you want is to be held by the one you love, so you call out only to be answered by your echoed voice. It is then, that you know you are alone.
The horrendous price of asking to move in with your older sister, and all her gay housemates. There is a toll on the fridge sweety and I, the monster will consume it all!
I can imagine us fighting at a grocery store over what sort of cheese we'd buy, and the ever increasing prices of milk. Don't worry my dear, we will stock up before the expected great milk shortage of the 2020's!