That Darned Cat

Our family is crazy about animals and we've had quite the menagerie throughout the years. We've had dogs, ferrets, birds, fish, chinchillas, turtles, frogs and even field mice.

In fact, one year we were sitting on our deck when our son, Boy, thought he spotted a baby bunny. He kept watching and sure enough, there was a tiny rabbit hopping around. Of course, we were concerned because there are owls and bats around our house; he was prime rib to them.

Boy looked at me and asked if he caught him, could he keep him? Knowing how fast rabbits are, I figured there was no way he would catch it. Plus, I felt a little better if we at least made the attempt to rescue it.

Twenty minutes later, much to our surprise, Boy proudly presented a pillow case with our new charge, a wild baby bunny, inside. We frantically searched the house for something to keep the poor thing in. I have to admit, I've never put anything past that boy again.

Of course, we couldn't keep him too long. He was, after all, wild. We just wanted to protect him until he was a little bigger and could fend for himself. We explained to Boy that sometimes loving something means doing what's right for them, no matter how hard it is for you.

The day we let him go was a sad, sad day in our house.

However, there is one animal that isn't welcome in our home – cats. I love them, but to say Matt doesn't like them is putting it mildly. I always said that I'd see Paris Hilton shopping at the Wal-Mart before Matt has another one.

Why? Because we once owned a beautiful canary, which Matt adored. At the same time, he'd given in to my pleas for a cat. Somehow, that cat managed to kill the canary and to this day, we have no idea how he did it. Thus, his residence in our home was short lived and Matt vowed that another cat would never darken our doorstep.

Until the day a six-pound, two-ounce ball of black fur with white paws and a white mask named "Bandit" was abruptly dropped into our lives.

Over the winter, our daughter, Elyse, had rescued Bandit from a barn and kept him in her photography studio. She promised that he would stay at her studio and we'd never need to do anything for him. Matt assured her that would be the case. He had no intentions of allowing a cat into our little animal kingdom.

Then, Elyse got her electric bill of $200, basically to heat what was an overgrown cat house when she wasn't working. Since she'd just opened her studio, we knew she couldn't afford that kind of money and her daddy reluctantly allowed Bandit to move in.

Still, Matt has yet to call him by his name. He generally refers to him as "The Cat", "That Cat" or some version of cat (with a bit of profanity thrown in.)

In fact, at this point, I'm fairly certain Bandit thinks his name has been changed to "Damn." He looks up every time he hears it.

And if Marley was the world's worst dog, Bandit is the world's worst cat. He doesn't like to be held, and only suffers petting on an occasional basis. He's the surliest creature that God ever placed on this Earth and he walks around like he owns the place.

While most cats purr or make some type of mewing sound, our Bandit chirps. Yup, I said he chirps.

It's the strangest sound you ever heard, and frankly, it's pretty comical. He also makes the oddest, most condescending sound; it's almost as if he's saying, "heh". After he makes it, he usually prances away, effectively letting us know that he told us.

But he's also adorable, and he has me wrapped around his little paw – I fell in love. And boy does he know it.

One afternoon, Aubrie had been teasing him and he was not amused. He came running through the kitchen, stopped about five feet away from me, looked up and made sure there was eye contact. Then, he gave me the most indignant "heh" he could muster. And trust me, he can muster a big batch of annoyed. Teenaged girls could take lessons on being indignant from this little guy.

And here's where my crazy kicked in like a shot of adrenaline.

I actually followed him into the sun room where he'd climbed on a windowsill, got down so I was eye-to eye with him, and in a voice that moms usually use when they're consoling a toddler said, "Oooh, what happened to my wittle boy? Did somebody hurt his itty bitty feelings?"

Even Bandit looked at me as if to say, "Really? You know I'm a cat, right?"

Being a barn cat, he was used to climbing on whatever surface he liked. But I drew the line when he began to jump up on my kitchen countertops.

My friend Paige calls cats "Pooh Paws," exactly for that reason. Of course, that's all I could think about when I walked into the kitchen to see him perusing that evening's dinner. I knew that training him to stay off my counters was going to be my new full time job; and it was.

Cats don't tend to be persuaded by shooing or being hollered at for very long. So I purchased a bright red spray bottle and began to douse him every time he got on the countertops. It took weeks of spraying water all over that cat, but he finally got the hint.

Just because he doesn't like to be doused with water, doesn't mean he doesn't like water. I know; it's bizarre. In fact, his favorite place in the house is the bathroom because he likes to play in the tub. He'll sit for hours, waiting for an errant drop to fall from the faucet; then he prances in it. He also likes watching the toilet flush, and will stand there staring at it for the longest time.

I was taking a shower the other day and apparently, he was in the bathroom and I hadn't noticed. I was mid-shampoo, when all of a sudden his little face was staring up at me.

Since one isn't accustomed to entertaining in a slippery shower, I dropped the soap, got shampoo in my eyes, tried to grab something to steady myself, but ended up grabbing a towel which fell into the shower and got doused with the heavy spray. I very nearly slipped and broke my neck.

The entire time, Bandit was looking at me with the oddest expression on his face, as if he was thinking, "Wow! You REALLY must have done something wrong!"

But, he's part of our family now, and even though Matt never wanted him, he sure has taken care of him. Since Bandit likes to look out the window, he constructed a ledge on a sill to put the cat bed on. The only thing is that it's above Bubba's dog bed, and there is no love lost between Bubba and Bandit. After Matt installed the bed, Bubba was constantly looking up, fearing the cat would launch an aerial attack.

It's been a few months now, and Bubba's finally gotten used to the cat being up there. Still, he occasionally jolts awake and looks up, but at least he goes back to sleep rather than twitching for a while.

Bandit has needed shots, de-worming, de-clawing and neutering, massive amounts of litter and special food because he has a sensitive stomach. And Elyse's daddy has paid for all of it.

Matt still hasn't come to love Bandit, and he probably never will. But love is funny. It manifests itself in the most unusual ways.

You hear stories of mothers tapping other worldy strength to lift a car off her child or a father running into a burning building to save his baby. Love can be expressed in the most grandiose ways, such as proposing in a crowded baseball stadium. It can also be mysterious, like a husband letting his wife know that he's still there keeping watch over her, across time and all eternity.

But most times, love is in the day to day things. Like when a husband brings home a single rose to surprise his wife, or when a brother patiently teaches his sister to swing a bat.

And sometimes, it's a dad accepting and taking care of a six pound, two-ounce black ball of fur with white paws and a white mask named Bandit.