Ode to My Cat

Oh beautiful black cat, in the spring, as it warms,
How I love your black hair... everywhere... everywhere.
In my nose. In my eyes. In my mouth. In my ears.
In my food. In my drink. In my blood. In my tears.

No really. I love my cat. Daisy. She's the sweetest thing ever. I composed this little epic in her honor the other night as she was being super-snuggly. I was in bed and she was on my tummy and she reached up a paw and gently touched my cheek. And I was all... this is like something you see in a cat food commercial. This is so cute! So I told her for the millionth time how much I loved her. And I said, "Let me count the ways!" I started listing off the ways that I loved her and it started getting out of control. So I thought I'd share.

Here goes:

You are so beautiful with your black fur (especially when you shed, like now *cough*) and your beautiful green eyes. And when you look at me like that. You're so sweet. I love you.

You have such a beautiful spirit about you, even though you had such a rough start in life. I love that about you.

You are so cute when you play in the tub under the water. What cat likes water more than you? You're kind of a freak! I love that about you.

That thing you just did with your paw? That was adorable. When you're laying on my tummy and decide to smack me multiple times with both paws so fast I never see it happen? That's not nearly as cute and it scares the crap out of me. I just love that about you.

Hairballs. Let's talk about them. Why do you always hack them up in the middle of the night? You make me feel so sorry for you, but I'm too sleepy to get up and then I forget and I wake up and wham! I step in a pile of... ewwwwwww. Could you stop that please? I really just love that about you.

When I'm half asleep and I feel someone staring at me? I love that about you.

One word. Litter. I love that about you.

You are my own personal alarm clock. This is a good thing on weekdays. When I'm sick and on weekends though, Daisy... darling... I don't need to wake up at 6:30am. I appreciate the effort though. I love that about you.

And the shedding. *Achoooo!* Really Daisy. *sniffle* I brush. I pull tufts. *SNEEZE* You're a shorthair! For crying out loud! *cough* What do people with longhair breeds suffer through?!? *eyes watering* I may shave you this year. Watch yourself girl. I love this about you.

Fire alarms. Daisy, I swear. If there is ever a fire, we are in big trouble. You are the bravest animal ever. Thunder? No problem. Surviving on your own as a baby in the wild? No biggie. Sirens? Car backfires? People yelling? Make me laugh. But the fire alarm in our apartment sends you into the far recesses under my queen-sized bed, where, no matter how far I stretch my arms,  I cannot grab any part of you to drag you out for your own safety. God forbid, there is an actual fire. Girl! I will be going out to buy one of those nets the animal control people use to scoop you out one of these days. Because a real fire will find me lying on the floor next to the bed, dead of a heart attack, trying to get you out. And the fire people will find you sitting on my back going, "What? I didn't do anything!" I LOVE that about you.

I think it's hysterical that you love Romaine lettuce. But I don't think it's as funny that you literally jump INTO the fridge when I open it looking for food. Now what would people think if they saw that? You're too quick for me! I have to body block you these days. I just looooove that about you.

Cats on tv let people hold them. They let people rub their bellies. They lie on people's shoulders. You do a lot of sweet stuff. But you will not let me pick you up for more than two seconds without actually starting to cry. I love that about you.

You are the sweetest cat on the planet, but put another cat in the room and you turn into a monster - a hissing, growling, drooling, green monster. Who ARE you? I... love that about you.

When I have to give you a pill, could you just swallow it? That would be nice. But I wrap you in a towel, like a feline burrito - a little black kitty head sticking out of the top, making this horrible whining sound. I pry open that mouth with all those sharp kitty teeth that would NEVER bite ME! I shove that pill in there - allllll the way back and wham! The mouth goes shut and I have to hold it like a tiny, little muzzle because you'll just spit the pill out. And you look at me pleadingly. And you cry. And you snuff like you can't actually BREATHE through your nose for crying out loud. And we sit there for at least five minutes and I gently let you open your mouth and... PHEW! Out goes the wet pill. Seriously? It must have tasted horrible! And rather than swallow it, you let it sit there and dissolve. Stubborn b... Ok. We're going to do this again. Ten minutes later with me rubbing your throat to make you swallow (no)... PHEW! Out it comes. This time it's half gone. OK. Well, if this is how you want it, I feel bad but you actually need this. So, one more time. Twenty minutes later and you still haven't swallowed once, but you open your mouth and there's no pill. And tomorrow we get to do this all over again. Guess I'll hold you for thirty minutes. Dang, you are one stubborn cat. I love that... nevermind.