This is Harry. He also goes by Harrison Roo, Moo, Mister Face and about a billion other names I won’t list here.
While I recognize that this post will totally brand me a crazy cat lady, I’d just like to remind all of you that I am NOT a spinster. I live with my boyfriend. And while yes, I do also collect teapots, I have a wide variety of other interests. Like books and baking.
Anyways, I really love my cat. I got him when he was just a tiny little baby, and when I picked him up at the adoption center, he immediately started drooling. The people I adopted him from said it meant he was happy. It was truly love at first sight.
One night, after having Harry a few months, he began making the craziest sound and lurching back and forth. Since he’d been eating and playing with a small toy, I assumed that he was choking. I immediately picked up the phone and dialed 911.
Yes, you read that right: I called 911 FOR MY CAT.
Just as an operator answered, Harry vomited up a hairball, causing me to nearly do the same. I told the operator that there was no problem and that everything was fine. They offered to send someone out, just to check on the person who’d choked. Thankfully, I managed to get them off the phone without sending someone out to check on the crazy cat lady.
Harry and I had escaped all other near-death experiences until yesterday.
It was early in the morning, and Andrew and I were fast asleep, cuddled in bed. All of a sudden, I heard the worst sound I’ve ever heard in my entire life. It sounded like a death shriek. The kind of noise that a creature would make if they were dying or being stabbed or something equally horrible. It was followed by the most awful warbling, caterwauling meowing I’ve ever heard.
I bolted out of bed, afraid of what I’d find, since a friend of mine recounted a similar story where her cat died of a heart attack. My heart was pounding, I was practically in tears, and I woke Andrew up to help me investigate.
Harry was perched on our windowsill, with the window open and pacing back and forth, hunched over, and clearly agitated. By this point, I was freaking out completely. I ran to him, picked him up and tried to figure out if something was wrong. Then, something caught my attention.
Just below our window, was a female cat, sashaying and showin’ her goods. Harry was practically crawling through the screen, trying to go out AND GET SOME. I was of course, totally relieved, but also so grossed out. Here was my little baby, my sweet, precious NEUTERED angel, who has never ever shown any sort of interest in another cat, trying to make noise to let her know that he was READY TO DOMINATE.
After Googling this behavior, I found out that apparently it’s totally normal. I know they always say that children don’t come with a manual, but this really freaked me out. And then totally, completely grossed me out.
Reason number 5,000,123 I will be the most neurotic mother IN THE WORLD. If I can’t handle my cat making noise and strutting his stuff, what in the world will I do with a kid?!