My Hairy Baby

I have this cat, Otis, who pretty much the cutest mother loving thing and is like a son to me. I love him more than life itself, but he drives me completely insane. He is the reason I realize I’m so not ready to have children. I threaten to throttle him at least once a day. My roommate said the other day: You’re as anti-social as Otis is. No, actually Otis is as anti-social as I am. As it happens with pets and children, he has taken on my exact personality: loving and cuddly (about 10% of the time), demanding, loud, paranoid, obnoxious, distrusting, needy, easily startled and, of course, anti-social.

He’s always running away from loud noises or new people. The other day I opened a bottle of seltzer water and he ran under the bed. Really, Otis? Water?!?! You’re afraid of water??? And I can’t close any doors in the apartment. Not even the bathroom door, or he sits outside and cries. And as soon as he sees me getting dressed to go out, that’s when he demands the most attention.

He wears my patience down to a fine point, until it becomes sharp, like a weapon. He knows exactly when I begin trying to work, like right now, and that’s when he wants to play. This is his favorite game: First he cries like he’s just been stabbed through the chest, then when I stop what I’m doing to get up and play with him, he runs under the bed. I try to play with him, but he does nothing. Then I return to my desk to continue working, and it starts all over again. The game ends when I lose my temper.

His other favorite time of day is when I go to sleep. Usually, he is a cuddle bunny. He snuggles with me while I sleep, and it’s the sweetest thing, BUT when I get in bed one of two things happen. He wanders around the apartment howling like a tortured banshee, or he jumps on me every time I move, and bites and claws the hell out of any body part above the covers. Then when he eventually settles down to cuddle, I can’t move. Even if I turn sides, he gets up, walks on top of me, and resumes his position on the other side, which of course wakes me up, and makes me toss and turn all night.

But of course, there is no dysfunctional child without a dysfunctional mother. More than anything in the world, he is afraid of being caged, and riding in cars. But I can’t live without him, so he has to travel with me wherever I go. Have you ever had to travel with a cat through security at the airport? You have to take him out of the cage (which he barely fits into to begin with and let’s not talk about how fun it is to get him into said cage in the first place) and hold him as you go through security. Then you have to ask the security guard nicely if he’ll please help you get the claws out of your back so you can put the cat back in the cage. It’s a very trying experience for both of us.

But as mad as he makes me, we hate to be apart. We’ve had separation anxiety ever since he was a baby. If you can’t tell by now, I am a crazy cat lady. We have conversations. Here is a typical conversation:

Otis: Cheese, did I hear cheese?
Me: No, Otis you can’t have any cheese.
Otis: Did you say cheese? I see it. I smell it. Give it to me.
Me: No, Otis no cheese. You’re getting fat.
Otis: Cheeeeeeeesssse!
Me: Fine. Cheese.
Otis: Now come play with me in my room.
Me: No, Otis, Mommy has other things to do.
Otis: Please come play with me in my room?
Me: Otis, I have work to do! Come watch Mommy work.
Otis: Play with meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!
Me: Dammit Otis! I have work to do so you can have cheese to eat! I have to clean the whole house because you never lift a finger t o help me and you only hide under the bed when you want to play!
Otis: Cheese?
Me: Don’t meow me when I’m holding a knife!
Otis: Meow.

I told you I was crazy. This conversation is pretty much verbatim, except what most people hear when Otis speaks is, “Meow.” But I happen to be a very gifted pet psychic. Or, he has literally driven me to the point of insanity with his incessant meowing. But I won’t kill him yet. Because the people that make you most crazy are the ones you love the most.