Not that I have anything against my cat, nor does it have anything against me.
Typically, though, we simply have other beings who take precedence. I'm awfully fond of my dog (which got into a misadventure today, which I'll get into momentarily), and most of my animal-targeted attention is devoted to her. As for my cat, she tends to prefer the company of my sister (since she's technically the cat's official owner, even though the cat is considered the family's cat), or the lap of my father (since he's a bookworm who's very good at sitting still for extended periods of time).
This weekend, however, my entire family (excluding myself and the animals) has been on vacation, and my cat, being a very social (and house-bound) creature, has been forced to find solace in my company. She's been rubbing up against my leg, sitting in my lap, sleeping in my bed (along with my rather finicky dog), and, for the most part, acting as though she's totally in love with me and as though I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread. For the most part, I've been enjoying her company, and enjoying the furry little creature who enjoys watching my every move with her blue eyes.
Of course, she's only drawn to me because she really has no choice; fate has decided to throw us together for an extended period of time, and the cat must enjoy my company because she has no other company to enjoy. She's forced to accept my flaws (ADD when it comes to sitting down, since I'm running around my house and I can only sit still for so long, for one) and I am forced to accept hers (the moment I lift her off my black clothes, I'm covered in an awful lot of white hairs which are difficult to remove, for one).
The rest of this entry might be somewhat offensive to some, or, rather, certain individuals, and I'm terribly sorry if it is. But it's been on my mind for quite a bit, and I can't stand censoring myself in this regard; I feel the need to get it out on paper, so to speak.
I am beginning to think that my relationship with my cat is a parallel for my last relationship.
Don't get me wrong; she was (and is) an absolutely great person. But I feel as though she had enough flaws which genuinely irked me (and I'm sure she realizes that I had plenty of flaws which really irked her).
I feel as though we were able to overlook these flaws, however, since we had no one else, and since there seemed to be a lot more good in the other person than there was bad. And, of course, these flaws wouldn't neccessarily irk others (my dad enjoys sitting down for extended periods of time with my cat, for instance); these flaws simply didn't match up with the other person's tastes.
This realization (or revelation, one might say), has only made me appreciate my current relationship that much more. The few "flaws" that they have intrigue me, delight me, and amuse me to no end, in the most wonderful way possible. They do not irk me, and I feel no need to overlook (or even accept complacently) them only because they belong to "my girlfriend".
I revel in them, as I revel in her, as I revel in her company and in her presence and in her happiness.
... and I think that's more than enough mushiness for one day. Jeesh, I'm beginning to sound like Tarrvetus did, back in the day.
So, my dog ran away today, which is usually bad enough, but was made even worse considering that I was the only one home. I was looking for her bymyself for well over an hour, wearing my torn, 80's style raggedy pants and dirty paint shirt since I was painting my brother's room (which I'm nowhere near as far along in as I'd like to be), yelling "Princess!" (my dog's name) and looking like a fool.
At one point, Erik calls me, and offers to swing by with Meg and to help me look for my dog. Now equipped with a car and two more people, we continued the search, and found her in the next twenty minutes. En route, bumped into little children, Chris Miller in his Mitsubishi, and a brown dog; Erik asked each of them if they had seen my dog. The last one, the brown dog, cocked its head to the side and looked at us funny; then, as we drove off, laughing at our silliness, it barked in a direction further up the block. Up that block, we found my dog in the company of a little boy (who demanded, but did not get, a reward) and his father (who saw to it that the boy not get a reward, since he wanted his boy to do a good deed for the sake of doing it, and not for the sake of money).
On the way back, as my dog sat in the back seat, smelling rather vile and covered in ticks (I had to spend nearly two hours cleaning her up and picking the ticks off) Erik said something to the effect of, "Hey, you both thought I was crazy, but I knew that brown dog would tell us where your dog was," and "Walbert, this better go in your D-land."
The day is yours, Erik, the day is yours.