Walk a Cat? Sure! Anything but write
I am gleefully child-free. That doesn't mean I will not absolutely spoil other people's children. My nieces and nephew aren't close enough for me to go crazy buying toys and trying new experiences.
What I do have close at hand is my cat and my dog. Today's tale is for the cat. We'll get to Cocoa Loco (Bean) the Hot Dog With Much Patience another time.
I've had some amazing cats in my life. Two stick out, probably because they're both still around to be amazing. The first is Goofy, my Goof-a-Doof. I've been doing the math. I adopted her in May, when I was 19. She was taken from her mother prematurely and I bottle fed her and raised her like a child.
I just turned 39 years old so that makes the cat 20 years old. I'm starting to wonder what the record is.
She's deaf, stubborn, and forgets that she eats so five minutes later she's staaaaaaaaarrrrrving once more. She also still prances around the upstairs, pouncing and taunting her frenemy Lucy. I haven't seen her in a long time. I get sad and happy when I do.
After Goof was weaned from the bottle, I would take her everywhere with me. She'd sleep on the speakers in the back window of my car when I went on road trips. She wasn't leash trained but I have a feeling she would have taken to it, had I started young.
Our next candidate is Shirin. Also known as Binny.
After my car accident, I had a cab driver who I rode with regularly. He became more than a driver, we've been decent friends for a while now.
He is a funny guy. I'd mention something I was thinking about or looking for, and he would call me two days later with three or more options. My habit of musing about random crap aloud kept him busy until I learned to put a filter on.
So after I've finally finished up physical therapy, I mention to my friend that we're interested in a kitten. Two days later I have pictures on my phone of the cutest baby kittens in the world! One was our Binny, the picture you've seen, and the other was Binny's brother, a ginger tiger Tom.
We chose Binny. I don't know why, specifically, but with the way my head goes to football names, the ginger would have been Eli. Then we joked today it would be Dalton (shoutout to my Cincinnati fan friends!). But no, it was Binny brought to us but two days later.
He was early to be taken from his momma, as well. A barn cat, he's upgraded to our luxury apartment and being an indoor kitty. Mostly indoor. He was the tiniest ball of fluff that I could hold in one hand. My heart melts whenever I think about it.
I was determined to have a girl kitty. Cocoa and My Companion are both male so I've been feeling outnumbered. Because I wished so hard, we named her Shirin. It means sweet in Farsi. By about six months I had to accept I was, once more, outnumbered in the house. By a larger margin now.
My Companion had a scary event that put him in the hospital briefly within 2 days of getting Shirin. The kitten's care came from me and I definitely imprinted. I had a fleece robe I'd wear that must have made him think of momma because he barely wanted to leave it.
I currently have fleece pajama pants and they trigger the purring, kneading thing every time. When he's being naughty I have a huge fleece blanket I pull out. He instantly stops and waits patiently for me to sit down, hits my lap and is so high on endorphins, I worry he'll be a fleece-addict. The withdrawl is gonna be a bitch.
The cat loves us. Like, a lot. We can do anything we want with him. As long as I provide a lap and occasional treats, he's as happy as can be.
As he's gotten older, I've gotten more involved in the writing/author world. I'm hoping to make a name for myself and have adoring fans. Technically, I already do, as Binny and Cocoa believe I can do no wrong and "just simply LOVE" everything I've ever written. But I digress.
There are times - not many but enough to notice a pattern - that I can't bear to look at my manuscript. Not the one I'm editing for Booktrope (At Wit's End to be released in February! Mark your calendars!), not the current WIP - or Work In Progress.
These are the times I decide it's time to train the cat. He pouts when Cocoa goes for walks. We live on the second floor and when we let him out onto the balcony, he hangs his head and looks longingly at the ground.
I realized today, while texting with my niece, that he's never felt grass under his giant Binny paws.
It's cooler in the winter, of course, but not so cool that I don't want to hang out with him outdoors. The summer is way too hot. He's acclimated to 72 degrees Fahrenheit so he'd shed his coat in .02 seconds,
I debated with myself for a while. Did I really want to be a special kind of crazy cat lady? That lady everyone in the apartment complex talks about because she does weird things like have literary conversations with a dachshund and has a cat on a leash...
Eventually I said screw it. The cat is awesomely well behaved. He listens and doesn't like to stray far from my side. When he is feeling disinclined to acquiesce to my requests, I can persuade him with treats.
We hit the pet store and looked for a harness and leash. The first set we found was a combo, which appealed, but it was sparkly and hot pink.
I didn't want to find glitter on my boy. Ew.
Eventually we found a red harness. I had to ask the clerk to find a red leash to match. I couldn't have Binny out there looking fashionably inept. That'd be humiliating for both of us.
It took two tries before he began accepting the harness gracefully. He doesn't love the thing, but who would? We put it on for short periods of time, treats for being a good boy, and removed it.
After two days of happy-ish harness attitude, I attached the leash. The kitten in him wants to attack and play. The big boy inside now understands that means the big door opens and he doesn't get caught before slipping outside.
I let him get his kitten yips out of his system before opening the door. I don't force him out, I let Binny decide when he's ready. Cocoa isn't liking this part. He thinks if the door is open it should be a free for all. So that's another issue to work on but it's still feasible this will work smoothly.
Once we're in the breezeway, he gets a little quiet. Binny is curious, however, and likes to explore. Each trip is a little farther out. We almost made it to the bottom of the stairs last night.
Binny doesn't know it, but he was extremely close to the bushes he can smell while on the balcony, the ones he stares so longingly at. I have a feeling we'll get there next time.
I've been taking pictures and video. Keep an eye here, and on FaceBook, for updates on our progress. Oh? You haven't followed me yet?
From one crazy cat lady to all the others out there, have a great week, meow, ya hear?
