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March 26, 2012 - Marguerite Lanthier
So, I have a new cat, named Lizzy by my mother. She was supposed to be my mother’s cat. Mom wasn’t there when we got her, so the cat thinks I belong to her. Cats are funny, pesky, trouble makers — into everything, but they can also be sweet and loving. We haven’t had a cat around for a couple of years. J.C. was my mom’s cat for 17 years give or take, and had a unique personality. He was the cat that escaped from the person who gave him to us and traveled three blocks through the snow to find us. I have no doubt he would find us even if we moved across the country. The last cat we had before him, was a boy cat we named Elsa because we thought it was a girl. (We were kids — what did we know.) He was a smart cat. He would claw open the outside door and jiggle the handle on the inside door when he wanted to come in the house. The first night with Lizzy I felt bad because she seemed so freaked out by her new home. I couldn’t stand her pitiful cry so I called her into my room. Our second day together she got on my bad side. I was dishing up tuna casserole, turned my back for a minute and she was helping herself to the large container of casserole. I put her on floor with a stern no. But I made the mistake of turning my back again, and she took the opportunity to sample the casserole I had already dished up on my plate. Since that night, dinnertime has been a constant battle of me fending her off while I try to eat. Sometimes Lizzy, who answers to kitty, will be purring loudly in the morning and you think ‘oh, she wants to be petted.’ Don’t touch her, it’s a trap. She really wants to grab you and play. I’ve got some lovely new scars on my right hand because of this. I’m trying to train her not to wake up too early. She always seems to wake up before the alarm and will start to nudge my arms and hands. Lately I’ve been laying her down, hoping she goes back to sleep. If that doesn’t work, it will be out the door. Her cry isn’t so pitiful anymore.
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