When I go home for break at the end of the semester, I’m about to open a can of worms I never thought I’d go near with a 39 1/2 foot pole.
After 21 years of being a self-proclaimed “dog person,” I’m going to adopt a kitten.
And I have to say, I’m pretty anxious about it. If you’ve ever seen the show “My Cat from Hell” on Animal Planet, you know why. I’m not sure if the insanity on the show is more palpable in the psychotic cats or the owners who keep them after getting a faceful of claws.
Personally, I think I would be a little leery of going to sleep with both eyes shut knowing there’s a potentially unstable cat prowling, lurking and otherwise slinking in the shadows, just waiting to catch me when I’m off my guard.
Even if I would have never seen that show, I’ve been so used to having the best dog a girl could ask for in my life from the time I was nine years old up until this past July. Any pet that I’ll ever have, no matter if it’s a cat, another dog or a potbellied pig, will always have an impossibly big collar to fill. You can’t replace a family member.
Given all of my minimal past experiences in dealing with cats, I know I’m going to have to adjust to a lot of differences. I think all dog owners can agree, when you look at your dog, you can almost tell what it’s thinking.
At the very least, you know beyond the shadow of a doubt that it loves you unconditionally. Unless you somehow adopted a pup from Cujo’s litter.
But with a cat, you can look into its eyes, into the very depths of its feline soul, and have absolutely no idea how it feels about you.
My friend’s cat, for one, is the definition of a loaded cannon.
Chloe seems innocent at first, when she curls up on your lap and starts purring contentedly, but the minute she gets sick of the affection, you’d better keep your tray table in the upright and locked position, because things are about to get turbulent.
The more I think about it, though, I’ve decided that this cat and I might get along pretty well. I’ve decided, regardless of the fact that the kitten I’m going to be getting is a boy, cats are pretty similar in nature to women.
We’re complicated, moody and tend to shed a lot.
Plus, I don’t care how crazy the thing is. If it’s furry, cute and will curl up with me while I study even only once in a while, I won’t be able to help myself. I’ll be head over heels. I’m a total softy anyway.
Despite all the potential pitfalls and concerns I might have, I think I’m ready to make some room in my life for a feline companion. I’m prepared to kitten-proof my apartment, from finding a spot for the litterbox, to moving all candles and breakable objects to much higher ground.
If anyone reading this knows my landlord, let’s keep this between us, shall we?
