It’s been about two weeks, and I can’t lie: I miss my house. A lot. Home-cooked meals are great, my parents are great and I like my own bed. But honestly, the thing I miss the most about home is my cat.
I spent approximately my entire childhood begging my parents to let me get a cat. They didn’t succumb to my pleas, cries and pandering until I was 14, on Christmas Day. They let my brothers and I choose the little guy from the local SPCA.
We chose a very small, very beautiful gray, green-eyed cat. He was timid and he had huge pupils and a tiny, babyish meow. I loved him on sight.
As soon as we brought him home, we knew we were wrong about his timid personality. We had been promised that he would stick to one area of the house at first in order to get comfortable. That didn’t happen. Instead, he began sprinting around, leaping and wreaking general havoc immediately. Though years have passed, he hasn’t changed. Whenever my older brothers and I are all home together (approximately six days a year), he becomes the kitten we brought home six years ago, racing around the house and chasing his tail.
We named our little cat Audie after the World War II Medal of Honor winner Audie Murphy. We expected him to exhibit a certain level of bravery, in keeping with his namesake. He has, thus far, not fulfilled that expectation. I have personally watched in abject embarrassment as a chipmunk chased him away from a tree.
While he’s not exactly brave, I still maintain he’s the perfect animal. My cat can intuit when a member of my family is sick or sad and he does his job of comforting us, curling up next to us and purring loudly. He gets shockingly excited when my mom makes spaghetti for dinner. He binge-watches TV with me when I’m home during the summer. He becomes morose and taciturn when he realizes one of my brothers or I make the return to our new homes (Brooklyn, Buffalo and Bonas, respectively).
He’s great, and he’s made me appreciate all animals more. Before Audie, I was inexplicably terrified of dogs. Now I realize dogs are just bigger, louder cats (with the exception of Stanley, a particularly mean dachshund with whom I am locked in a bitter stalemate).
My friends always tell me that I’ll end up a cat lady, and I have to be honest, I don’t mind. Cats are hilarious! They’re smart! They’re fuzzy! They’re low maintenance! If my cat is any sort of representative for all cats, I love every cat ever created.
If you don’t have a cat, get one. That’s an order. Unless you’re allergic, then maybe you don’t have to.
mcelfrdh14@bonaventure.
