Itty Bitty Kitty Residency, or, Where Your Heart Resides

Image: catversushuman

In everyone’s circle of acquaintances there’s at least one person who’s a proud mother or father to a furry friend. You might know that person very well because it’s one of your closest (and probably weirdest) friends, or you might just know the person from talking to them every once in a while at a friend’s house. It doesn’t matter how you know them. What does matter, however, is how you remember that person. Once that person reveals their passion to you, you can never unsee certain aspects and unthink certain thoughts.

  

Imagine: It’s a Saturday evening; you’re eating out with a few close friends. One of them has brought along one of their new acquaintances. Yes, she really is great, you’ll absolutely *love* her. And she’s got a cat, too. SO much to talk about.

Image: WB, timesunion.com

Now, with that image in mind, try and listen what your new acquaintance is so eager to tell you. So, a cat, you said?  Her name? You don’t know. You can’t even remember whether it really is a she. You’ve lost track. Your mind’s somewhere entirely different now. Listening with only half an ear, you’re slowly starting to notice the small assembly of white strings of fur on your conversational partner’s sweater and jeans. You wonder whether their apartment – did she say she still lives with her parents? – is crammed with typical cat equipment: balls of wool, feathers on laundry lines, scratchers, rubber mice and other toys, feeding dishes of different sizes filled with gourmet canned food, small brushes, squishy blankets, china with cat portraits on it, bedclothes with kitty patterns on them, litter boxes, leashes in various colours...

You realise the person sitting next to you isn’t talking about any of those items. In fact, she’s not even talking about cats any longer. But then what’s the subject? You don’t care, all you can think of is that cat and its home. The person whose name you didn’t bother to remember has started a conversation with someone else by now. You interrupt the conversation. They look startled. You need to know more about that cat.

Timmy is the cat’s name, you learn. Teresa’s the owner. They live in a village next to yours, with both a balcony and a paradise of a garden. Your questions become forcefully, more intricate – you interrogate Teresa about the cat’s favourite food, its favourite sleeping-place, its neighbouring friends and associates; a picture coalesces. 

Your usual Saturday evening has turned into an engaging highlight of your obnoxiously tiresome week. Your evening has been so all-encompassing you didn’t even notice the others had already had their dessert. But you can’t think of dessert right now. Food is irrelevant, as well is time; you’ve just “met” the cat of your dreams. 

Dinner and evening draw to a close, and you exchange numbers with Teresa...just in case. The get-together dissolves, Teresa leaves with the friend she came with, and you’re left alone with your other friends. Such a nice evening. Such a nice person, that Teresa. Such interesting conversations. They want to know whether you enjoyed yourself. You affirm.  You finally leave for home. 

  

The floor mat on your doorstep invites you to “wipe your paws” before you enter. To the entrance door’s left you discover the two empty food bowls that have been sitting there untouched for over a week. An empty sleeping-place awaits you at your bedside. Clinging to a blanket, a few white strings of fur are the only other remainders left of your furry friend.  

In everyone’s circle of acquaintances there’s at least one person who’s crazy about their furry friend. It might not be your best friend, it might not even be an acquaintance – but it might be you.