Hope

Powerful title hey? Hope is such a wonderful, energy giving emotion. But what I’m writing about today is not something as positive as all that. In fact, quite the opposite. I’m going to write about my stuck up cat. Her name is Hope.

She got her name from the employees at the shelter, along with her sibling sisters Love and Joy. I sometimes wonder if, in this anti male world we live in, if she had brothers named Lust and Greed.

Like all important decisions should be made, I got her on a whim. Suffering from guilt only a divorcee can feel, I decided my kids should have a pet. They chose Hope. Hope is a Calico American Shorthair. She’s a dainty thing. But don’t let that fool you, she’s also a cold hearted animal prone to long bouts of bitterness and resentment. She’s also a stone cold killer.

More than one bird and too many mice to count, have had their lives snuffed out by her. The way she looks at me when I’m late feeding her is the face I imagine mice see before they are dispatched to rodent heaven.

I think we used to be friends. But I’m not sure to be honest. I remember in sad times alone, her coming and sleeping on my chest. It was a comfort to me. But now I realize she does that when she’s hungry. It’s not to offer companionship, but to be sure I won’t leave the house without her being able to scream at me to feed her.

But for certain our relationship ended when on another whim I introduced her to Bauer, my newfound mutt hound. I think she decided if I could care for something as stupid and destructive as Bauer, then she had no room in her cold heart for me. Fine by me. I hated cats as a kid and happy to be friends off with Hope. It never felt right loving a cat anyway.

So, we just tolerate each other now. Co exist. I know when I see her, it’s not me she wants, it’s food or to be let out. Eat. Get out. Come in.

“Do whatever the hell you want Hope, we both know you will anyway

Oh, and thanks for the mice entrails on the porch again. And seriously? I spent 200 bucks on bird feeders you hairy rat! Stop killing the birds!”

My dog is a menace to society. But, he wants to hang with me AFTER he’s fed. He cares. Not Hope. It’s like she doesn’t even know my love language is time spent. She could not care less. If I were to die before I wake, Hope would have my soul for sale on Kijiji for a spoonful of catnip.

I’ll keep feeding her and all that. But our relationship is over. She doesn’t fool me anymore. She doesn’t care about me and she never did.

I came out of the closet and said I was a cat person, but I realize now I was just confused. The world makes sense again.

If you read this far, thank you.

Tris