A friend collected a kitten last week to give to her daughter for her 7th birthday.  I agreed to look after the kitten this week while my friend was away.  Unfortunately the daughter turned out to be allergic.  And I have the kitten.  And I turned 38 yesterday.

Ella and Slippers

Ella and Slippers

Fate bestowed a kitten upon me during the week of my near-40 birthday.

And the cat’s name? Slippers …. Simone and Slippers.  An alliteration usually makes things better, but not in this case.  Simone … Slippers … Spinster.  I suppress an image of me in 20 years with a houseful of cats.

Slippers is named because of her white-feet.  The same reason my nana’s cat was named Socks.  Another reason to fear the symbol of the new kitten.  And the alliteration.

My friend commented “Oh it is nice to come home to something”.  No, it’s nice to not come home to something.

Whenever I’ve lived with people I’ve always walked up to my door at the end of the day with a feeling of dread.  Knowing (or worse, not knowing) that someone’s inside.  I loathe it.  I turn the key praying they won’t be there, while I simultaneously try not to get my hopes up that I’ve got the place to myself.  Fear and anticipation is too often met with plummeting disappointment and (irrational) anger when I hear the cheerful “Hello!!” from the person behind that door.   Ugh.

Of course if they’re not home, I get a rush of euphoria and elation.  “Woo hoo! No one’s here!!”  But for how long?  They’ll be back, but when?!  I can’t enjoy my solitude with the knowledge that the door will open and at any time.

I like living by myself.

Slippers’ mother was a feral cat who was tragically killed in a motor vehicle accident.  Slippers’ siblings were subsequently drowned.  For reasons unknown to me, Slippers and her brother were granted a reprieve from a watery execution.  And as they start out on the journey of life alone, I look out on the journey of middle-age equally alone.

Slippers doesn’t seem to have embraced solitary life as much as I have.  She follows me from room-to-room.  She sits on me when I sit down.  And she lies on my neck when I try to sleep.  In a nutshell, Slippers is very needy and has no idea of personal space.

I’m sorry Slippers that you’re the orphaned daughter of a feral cat.  I’m also sorry that I’m a solitary singleton who struggles to co-habit.  We’ll just have to give each other some space and see how we get along.

We stand a better chance if you stop trying to sleep on my face.

6 responses to “Slippers

  1. Stoli is 16 and still sleeps right next to my head every night. Good luck

  2. Actually I think that Cat will be a great companion for you. Once it turns into a Cat. Kittens are social but cats are almost entirely indifferent to your being alive or dead. No adult cat I have ever lived with has ever met me at the door excited for me to have come home. They will bug you if you have not fed them and every now and then they need to be pet but it is usually at convenient times when you are being still. Watching TV or reading or something. Down sides are, destroyed furniture, bringing in smaller animals from outside in varying states of being alive, hair everywhere, vomit, trips to the vet when they have gotten into fights with other cats, urinary tract blockages (if male) etc. Hmm. Maybe you shouldn’t have a Cat. . .

  3. Awwwww such a cutie 🙂

  4. My poor wife is allergic to cats and O and I are constantly aw’ing and ah’ing over kittens and cats. I totally get the along time thing (especially now that it’s disappeared from my life). I don’t mind having cats sleeping on my face.

    Give into the crazy cat lady syndrome 🙂

    Hope you had a great birthday.

  5. This still makes me want a kitten. Even though about once a day I silently scream in my head “Everyone just GO AWAY!!”. (That’s the sensored version).
    P.S. Totally get that key in the lock moment.

  6. Your last line in this poignant story is a crack-up!

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