April Blogging Challenge: C is for Cat (duh)

Yes, I am writing about my cat, Miss Harriet. I've mentioned her a few times, probably posted a picture or two of her since I've been blogging. But I've never told you the story of how she came into my life.

Shortly after I moved to Sacramento, one of my friends that I met while working at Petco (who had moved there the same time I did) had transferred from the Chico Petco to a Sacramento location. In the city, folks tend to just drop off an animal at the doors before employees arrive because they're so freaking wracked with guilt and shame (as the should be) they can't take it to the Humane Society or return it if it was purchased from the store. Heaven forbid they just take care of the fucking animal they purchased. Yeah, that's a whole other soapbox.

Moving on.

One morning my friend got to work to find a large cat carrier left in front of the doors, with a cat inside. Being that she has a heart of gold, she took the cat home. This cat, however, was not fond of her two other cats, and seemed to get sick from the food she fed her other cats. So she took it to her boyfriend's house. This cat was also not fond of his two cats, but like the food better. She kept hinting to me that this cat needed a home with no other pets and someone who could give it lots of love (aka me). After a couple months of nagging hinting, I finally decided to take the cat. My friend had named her Harriet, simply because she is quite hairy. She's a long-haired, black and white kitty.

Since it was December when I took the cat, my friend and her boyfriend agreed and offered to buy me stuff to get set up with Harriet.

Harriet is quite the affectionate cat; if you're sitting down, that means your lap is automatically available for her to claim. She doesn't give a snit if you're deathly allergic to her, all laps fall under her domain. If she makes it to the bed before I make it, it simply doesn't get made. I hate to disturb her snotty highness such a sweet kitty. Her motor runs if she's cuddling next to you. Her whiskers are so long that if she is within a foot of my face, they tickle my face.

She leaves me such disgusting nice presents. I mean, she really is so very thoughtful. She enjoys leaving me hairballs once in awhile. It's the greatest thing in the world to wake up in a dark room, to walk to the bathroom and step on something wet and slimy. I have no words to express my joy - I simply jump up and down in excitement.

She dreams. I have no idea what she dreams about, but I know she does. In fact, she's dreaming as I type. It's a good dream so far. A good dream her smacking her lips or making little licking noises, and her nose will twitch a bit. More than likely, she's able to catch what she's after. She also has nightmares. The really bad ones will have her jolt from her slumber, jumping to the ceiling and hissing; she'll land - me laughing my ass off, and her looking at me like, "Nothing to see here, move along." The best ones are where she jumps and hisses with no warning, therefore scaring me so bad that I actually scream, which probably doesn't help her obvious freaked out state of mind.

She despises travel. She'll meow most of the time in the carrier, sounding like she's being tortured.

She sheds enough in a week that it could easily make another cat. My carpet constantly looks like a Dalmatian, full of black spots. It's nasty.

But I love her to pieces, even if she is a wee bit psychotic. She only wants to be loved, is super friendly (unless you're trying to comb out mats), and is quite cuddly. She may not jump for joy when I come through the door, but she fits in my lap quite nicely.