I wish I knew how to do animation. If I did, I'd YouTube a video of our pathetic cat bustin' out with her best LL Cool J impersonation.
When I'm alone in my room sometimes I stare at the wall
And in the back of my mind I hear my conscience call
Telling me I need a girl who's as sweet as a dove
For the first time in my life, I see I need love
I need luuuuuuv.
She's lonely, the cat.
I know she is because she knocks on Dani's door all the time.
No, it's true. She knocks. (Remember, this is the cat who uses her paws to turn the glass knob on the family room door when she wants out.) When she wants Dani (who's teenage room is ALWAYS closed when she's not home, to keep out snoopy brothers and shedding cats), she stands on her back feet and knocks with her front feet. Pat pat pat pat pat, in quick succession, one paw after the other. When it first happened the other morning (or at least, the first time any of us noticed), Dani happened to be inside. She heard someone rapping on her door, and thinking it was Ian, growled in an animated way, "WHAT DO YOU WANT?"
There was no answer.
So she threw open the door, thinking she'd spook him a little and was disappointed that he wasn't there. Looking down, she saw the cat gazing up with longing in her eyes.
"WHAT THE!" Dani exclaimed. "Ashlie just knocked on my door!"
Both boys came running from their room to see for themselves. I don't think they believed 100%, but they giggled just thinking about it.
The next day, they witnessed it for themselves, and Ian literally fell on the floor laughing. This is how we know for sure that the cat knocks. I, however, still hadn't seen it with my own eyes.
Flash forward to this morning.
I'm sitting here at the computer, minding my own business and not paying one lick of attention to the cat, with whom I'm still cranky for dropping a load on the hardwood in the entryway yesterday, when she sidled up beside my leg and started meowing.
It wasn't a loud meow.
It wasn't a quick, punctuated mew; that's the one that says "I'm out of food, you stupid slag heap."
It wasn't a drawn-out longing mrrrrowwwwl, the one that wants to burst through the window and claim the squirrel on the other side as her slave.
This meow was different, somehow. It was kinda sad.
Even so, she's the cat, and on principle, I don't like her. So I ignored her. I'd already filled her water bowl this morning, so if she had a problem, it would have to wait until 3:00 when the kids return.
Soon enough, she gave up the meowing, walked around to the back of my desk chair, where my still-too-ample-butt is hanging off the back, and started knocking.
Yes. The cat knocked on my butt in the same exact way the kids described her knocking on Dani's door. I looked over my shoulder at her and said, "What's up, Cat? You need some love?"
At that, she rolled her head over in that weird cat way and waited to be scratched under the chin. And I, in a moment of weakness, felt sorry for her hairball-yacking self and gave her some love.