If you're not knitting, the terrorists win

(My mostly on-topic ramblings about knitting. And life in general. My life in specific.)

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Location: Indiana, United States

I'm a middle aged mother of 2 grown children and wife to a man who doesn't seem to mind my almost heroin-like yarn addiction. I spend my time writing, knitting, and generally stressing out.

Monday, June 24, 2013

Gifts From The Cat

Cats are so funny. They want to be cool and aloof, like they don’t care if you like them or not. But they get all freaky jealous of each other. They want you to want them more than they want you. And they want you to want them more than any other cat.

Example: I told you about Odysseus, right? He is my slightly feral outdoor cat. Actually, I think he’s probably more PTSD from being abused than feral. But you know what I mean, right? He’s not going to be a lap cat any time soon.

What he will do is come to get food. And sit and sun himself on my porch, my car, or in my window. He will acknowledge me by running to the porch when I come out (but he stops shy of arm’s reach and hisses at me). And he will bring me presents. Lots and lots of presents.

I’m talking frequent decapitated bird donations to the family. Thanks, Odysseus. (No, seriously, thanks. I always thank him profusely and give him some Friskies in a bowl as I take away his “gift.” I want him to know I appreciate the gesture in the spirit it was given.)

Of course, Achilles doesn’t like that at all. And, since he has no way of killing any birds for me, he has had to be very creative in his gifting.

So, one night I found a piece of glass under my pillow. Glass. WTF? Upon closer inspection, I realized it was the tail from my blown glass hummingbird hanging in the hall. Someone must have jumped up there, bashed the tail off my bird and then brought me a trophy. And yes, as a matter of fact, Achilles was right there, watching my reaction.

Of course, I had to praise him, as well. And give him some special treats. I thought that might be the end of the rivalry. But no. A few nights later, I found this under my pillow.

It’s a giant dead moth. Thank you, Achilles. It’s just what I always wanted. But you know, I’m good on dead bugs right now. No more, okay?

I probably should have just said “I’m good on bugs.” Because the next thing he brought me was a live spider.


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