Named after Dexter the serial killer. You can’t keep this cat down. If you leave anything lying around that’s not more than 25 pounds, he’ll play with it. This usually involves batting, scratching, knocking it off a table, or chewing it.
I suspect this is why Darren keeps his house so clean.
I left when the sun was setting. Along the way, the road stretched out infinitely before me, as if to say that I can always get away, and there is always more to go. The tree line danced and waved across the horizon, eventually disappearing with the sun. Then the lines of red and white in each direction guided me all the way to Darren’s house.
In it are little things from the house I grew up in — some candles here, some cabinets there — that my parents didn’t want after the divorce. So strange to see innocuous objects from my childhood in a different setting.
It was the first time we’ve been completely sober together since we were kids. No alcohol, no weed.
I found out a couple things I wouldn’t have known otherwise:
A weekend of sweet indulgence, late nights, and intimate conversation. No one understands my relationships the way Darren does, because we both share these quixotic ideas about love. It was so comforting to be able to express myself on these things without having to explain my underlying feelings, as if someone could truly understand me, especially important in this current phase of my life.
It made me realize that home isn’t where the parents are, something I used to believe1. It’s an idea.
A comforting place you can go to get away, where you’re completely accepted for who you are.
When you live with a cat who sleeps on things to mark her territory, you never wonder why your clothes are covered with hair.
One of the advantages of having such a lovable cat is that people want to buy her things. I make a conscious effort not to spoil her with human food, so she happily accepts toys and treats from people.
Like this bunny filled with catnip that Louise bought for her.
One thing she really likes to do is grab her catnip toys by the teeth and shake them to release the scent. I don’t give her catnip very often, so in stoner terms, this meas she’s a lightweight.
And oh how she loves it; within a few minutes, the fur of the toy is covered in cat drool.
While Joel and his family were on extended vacation, I took care of their cat, Sprocket.
He used to be 25 pounds (from the previous owner who overfed him) but slimmed down to around 14 or 15, I’d say. You can tell he used to be much bigger; if you run your hand down the length of his body, you can feel the bones on his frame sticking out prominently, and there’s a fair amount of extra skin hanging from the belly.
He never got along with Dolly. For the entire time he was with me, which was just under two months, they got in about two dozen fights. Every now and then, there would be a tremendous cacophony of hissing, growling, meowing, and running from one end of the house to the other. I’d say that Sprocket was more often the aggressor, but Dolly started her share of fights. Even though she still has her back claws (Sprocket is completely de-clawed), he had a large weight and size advantage. His bite is also very strong (which I found out from feeding him treats1), I’m guessing from all the practice he got from eating.
It made me re-think getting a second cat while Dolly’s still alive. Two cats can fill a house nicely, but she didn’t get along with him at all. Since they don’t know how old Sprocket is, the aggressiveness may simply be due to his age, but I’m not sure I want to take the chance.
In any case, I can tell he enjoyed the change of pace, which was living in a house with two parents, two kids, and two dogs, to just me and a cat. He’s a sucker for treats, meowing quietly as a “reminder” to give him one. One funny thing I noticed is that he seemed to have harder-than-average paws. When pacing around on the kitchen tiles before being fed, it would sound like a horse trot.
Sprocket also loves attention. No matter what I was doing — cooking breakfast, playing games upstairs, writing downstairs — he would follow me around. It did make my Tai Chi practice more difficult, as he’d spread out on the open carpet and roll around under my feet.
He loves to sleep on blankets, and would always fall asleep on my sheets when I was under them, most commonly near the feet. He got along especially well with Bronwen. When she stayed the night, he would keep her up by constantly walking over her body, looking for a warm place to nestle.
I’ll certainly miss him. Hopefully, he’ll remember me the next time I go over to Joel’s house.