I have been known to love cats almost as much as the infamous eHarmony cat-loving crying girl. When I encounter someone who is allergic to cats, I feel deep sorrow for them. When I become acquainted with someone who just doesn’t like cats, I feel instant disdain towards them. Cats are delightful creatures that can improve even the worst of my days. Well, almost.
This weekend I had my first experience with food poisoning. It was awful, I’ll probably never eat taco salad again, and I’m pleasantly surprised to have survived. I live in a cute little efficiency apartment with no roommates and my cat. Having lived away from home for a few years now, I’ve gotten used to being sick without Mom rubbing my back until I fall asleep or Dad making my soup when I wake up hungry. Left to my own devices, I am accustomed to whimpering alone beneath my covers and begrudgingly making my own Ramen when I become desperate.
Contessa, my cat, and I are usually on the same page about things like midday naps and general moodiness. Though Contessa has endured several occasions of my near-death sick spells, but this has been by far the most frustrating for the both of us. Here are my top three reasons why cats are not great pets when you’re sick:
1. Cats are curious. Having to always be in the know about everything, Contessa thought it was appropriate to investigate exactly what was happening while I was on my bathroom floor with my head in a porcelain halo. I sure as hell would have rather not known what was going on, but I wasn't given that choice. Rather, while my gag reflexes did their thing, one hand was busy holding my hair above my head and the other repeatedly shoved Contessa into the closet. Who know I had such coordination?
2. Cats want to sleep on you. Though Contessa has claimed our furry chair, window sill, and left cushion of the couch as her sleeping thrones, she clearly does not have enough choices. Perhaps it was the extreme heat my feverish body omitted or the vibrating effect I created when I got the shivers, but Contessa preferred my stomach-chest-face region to any other spot in the apartment for her sleeping pleasure.
3. Cats want to drink what you’re drinking. Even if what I’m drinking is orange flavored Pedialyte from an Oh, the Places You’ll Go mug. I probably should have let her try this one. Then it wouldn't have been a problem anymore.
He makes me want to be able to cook something so that I can serve him breakfast in bed or dinner at a table with real dishes and maybe even flowers and candles. He makes me want to secretly borrow all of the books from his shelf and read them so that I can reference them at a later time and impress his pants off. He makes me want to learn Spanish and survive cold weather and recall historical events and memorize the lyrics to N.W.A. and La Dispute songs. I have even considered letting him teach me how to ride a bike or play guitar.
When we accidentally match our clothes or I order his meal correctly at a restaurant we frequent, I don’t really mind if people are judging us for being one of those couples.