As most of you can tell by now, I love these feline friends of ours. They drive us bonkers sometimes, with their silly fights and penchant for yelling outside our bedroom (they are not allowed in). Yes, they can be such a Pain In The Arse. But at the end of the day, we are so very glad that we took the leap of faith and adopted them. Without Coco and Emi in my life, especially, I think I would have gone cuckoo after all these infertility shit. Everyone says that cats are aloof and unfriendly but I think everyone got that wrong.
So when Lady J tagged me to do a Pets on Furniture post, I was more than happy to oblige. And the onslaught begins…
No, this is not about the scam, nor is it about the story of the man who yelled “open sesame” to open a cave full of gold coins.
Rather, it’s about my Emi Kat. The not-so-little thing has learnt to open the doors in my house. These days, it’s not unusual to wake up to a house full of open cupboards because the furry fat cat has somehow wriggled her way through.
I managed to catch her in action one morning and dang if she isn’t adorable, flipping her hind legs up in the air here and there. It’s one of those things where you don’t know whether to be horrified at her audacity or laugh at her cleverness.
As I sit on my sofa typing this, Emi Kat is stretched out next to me, fast asleep. One year ago, she charmed me with her pseudo easy-going ways and I insisted on bringing her home. Husband wasn’t too keen but well, I guess it’s pretty obvious that I got my way, heh heh.
And then we took her home, only to realise that all that sitting contentedly on my lap? All that I’m a good kitten demeanour? HAH! CHARADE! If there is a feline equivalent of the Oscars, she would have nabbed it.
She HATES sitting on your lap. She chomps down on you – HARD – when you get on her nerves. She loves to jump onto the kitchen countertops despite our admonishing. She YELLS when you don’t let her into the bedroom. She YELLS when she is bored. She is so lazy that she SITS down when she is using the scratching post. She likes to sneak up on Coco from the back and take a bite at Coco’s legs. She tries to steal our food.
She melts our hearts when she curls up next to us on the sofa. She loves to flop onto the floor with a loud PLOP! at unexpected times. She loves to be around us, following us wherever we go. She likes to lick our arms and feet (very OUCH!). She runs ever so quickly when she realises that THERE’S FOOD! She whines like a baby. Her little pink snout turns orange sometimes and we don’t know why. When we can’t find her, all we need to do is to shake that bag of kitty treats and she’s out in a jiffy. She is utterly, utterly, tak glam.
One year ago, on this very day, a little furball came into our home.
Oh, she wasn’t a willing party at all. The moment she spotted an escape route, she put her tiny legs to good use and powered out of the room, out of the house, and into the corridor. It took four adults to finally catch her and bring her back in. Boy, could that cat run.
That was our first glance into the cautious and wary mind of our kitteh.
We named her Coco, because she had rich chocolate stripes and also because I had recently watched Coco Avant Chanel. But it suits her perfectly and gave us the excuse to call her our Coco Beans. She seems to love it too and responds to it.
For the first few monthsthough, she wouldn’ t sleep in our presence. Her eyelids would droop and her eyes could close. But the minute we shifted or made a sound, her eyes would snap open. It was a long while before she would snooze with us around.
I wasn’t sure she would forgive us for bringing Emi home initially. She was really mad at us and refused to go near the bedrooms (where we had stashed Emi) for at least a week. One night, I woke up to find her in our bedroom hissing at her own reflection in the mirror. She wouldn’t come near us, wouldn’t let us pet her head and hid on top of the fridge.
Eventually, she grew used to Emi and went back to being the adorable little brat that we had come to love. She still swipes at you if she doesn’t want you to be stroking her fur, whines persistently outside the bedroom every day and eats my plants. But she also boinks my head with hers whenever she is in a good mood, purrs contentedly when she is simply sitting on our bed, trots out of the room when we tell her to and still waits for us on top of the oven every night when we come home.
One year ago, Coco not only came into our home, she also entered our hearts.