I vacuum my cat. He loves it. It makes him happy. He actually comes out from wherever it is he is hiding and jumps on the half wall that separates the family room from the kitchen and meows at me as if to ask when it will be his turn.
Getting vacuumed must be like a massage for my cat. I used to think it was a quick way to minimize shedding, but alas it doesn’t seem to do much more than take off whatever fur is right on the surface and make my perpetually grumpy cat love me for the duration of the vacuuming.
I feel for my cat. When we brought him home nine years ago he had our complete attention from the moment we came home from work until the moment we left in the morning. We would play ball with him, brush him every day and make sure he had the best of the best in cat supplies. And ohhh the cuddle time…
Nine years later the cat is forced to share his house with a gregarious four-year old girl and an exhaustingly energetic one year old dog. My cat is very good with my daughter, but why he decided to slap one of her friends on the head as she walked by him two years ago, is still one of life’s greatest mysteries (perhaps he thought she was here to stay?).
I think the cat enjoys tormenting the dog though. When we first brought the dog home my husband feared for the puppy’s life. She survived and is relentlessly determined to make a playmate out of the cat. And while chasing the dog through the upstairs hall to the point that she forgets we have stairs and falls down a couple of steps may not be considered playing to some, I think my cat finds happiness in it because he does it time and time again, as does my dog.
My husband hates cats. I convinced him to get this cat because he travelled a lot and I needed a companion to keep me company while he was away (oh, to have those lonely hours of nothingness back!). A friend of mine was giving kittens away, so we drove out to the country to visit. My husband’s firm expression melted as soon as the little gray and white kitten with a white-tipped tail pounced up to him and meowed loudly.
That little kitten would soon become a very heavy and handsome alpha male who only likes to be pat after he crawls up and lays on your chest in the middle of the night, and demands to be fed five minutes before the alarm goes off and lets you know this by making a scratching post out of the box spring.
Suffice to say I love my cat. He reminds me that there was a time when things weren’t so hectic and that before I know it, it could just be him and I again, sitting in the chair, eating ice cream and watching DVDs of “Sex in the City” while my husband is travelling with work.
My cat also reminds me that while I only have five minutes to vacuum before everyone gets home and I have to let the dog inside because it is going to rain, that I need to take the time to give him his vacuum massage. Because it makes him happy and he makes me happy, and you should always make time to do what makes you happy.