I've been catsitting my friend's cat for the last three weeks. Growing up, my cat Gem was my bestie, and I still think of her every day. But since she passed away about five years ago, aside from spending time with my parents' cats when I go home (if I can find them under their mile-long hair) or some play sessions with my brother's cats, I haven't spent much time with the species I love so much. Part of that was because I didn't want to get a cat until I could fully open my heart to him or her without comparing them to Gem; part of it was because when my fiancé was still stage managing, neither of us had regular enough schedules to make sure a cat was properly cared for or regular enough income to make sure that he or she had food and litter and vet money; and part of it was because my fiancé is allergic to cats.
The first time he visited my parents' home when Gem was still alive, he got stuffy and broke out in rashes on his neck and cheeks.
"What's wrong?!" I asked.
"I'm allergic to cats," he replied.
"Oh no!" I said, a look of wide-eyed terror coming into my eyes as I stared at him, frozen, trying to comprehend the horror of having chosen a guy who can't be around my favorite species.
"Don't worry. I know we're getting a cat one day," he said with a chuckle and a shake of his head. "I get that's not even a question. I'll deal. I'm not going to ask you to choose between a cat or me and living your life without a cat."
"Ok good. Glad you got that," I said with a sigh of relief. "Now take some Benadryl."
The question hadn't seriously arisen again until a childhood friend of mine who lives in our building needed a catsitter for several weeks during her move out-of-state. He'd been around the cat at Thanksgiving and broke out in hives. But because I'm really good at looking at him with big brown innocent eyelash-batting eyes (a technique he tells me that one day when we have children I am forbidden from teaching them), and because I made the point that he's got to get over his allergy sooner or later "because dude, we ARE getting a cat," and this was as good a time as any, he said yes. (Lest you think I'm insensitive, I did ask, "Are you sure?" twice. I totally gave him a chance to back out. I might have still been batting my eyelashes when I said it... but I did say it.)
And so Daisy the cat became a temporary part of our family.
At first he insisted she stay out of the bedroom and off the bed. No problem. She slept in her cat bed or on the futon. He tensed slightly every time she came to head-butt and mark him, but he'd nevertheless patiently let her give him a nose kiss and then he'd go rushing to the sink to wash his face and hands and apply aloe before sitting back down on the futon with a slightly uncomfortable, anxious look on his face.
"You doin' okay?" I'd ask.
"Yeah," he'd say unconvincingly.
The fourth night, she woke us up in the middle of the night head-butting the bedroom door and hoarsely meowing. So I went out and slept with her on the futon. The fifth day, he let her eat a treat from his hands and barely got any rash. On the fifth day, Daisy also discovered the joy of shoelaces. And on the fifth night, she head-butted the bedroom door and meowed again. So I slept on the futon again.
The sixth day, when I was working and my fiancé was sitting on the floor listening to music, Daisy crawled into his lap. And she looked up at him with her big innocent eyes and batted her eyelashes (maybe I said I wouldn't teach this skill to future children, but I didn't say I wouldn't teach it to a cat) and at that moment his heart grew three sizes that day, and then his true love of cats came through, and my fiancé found the strength of 10 Claritins, plus two.*
And so that night the bedroom door stayed open. And there were no rashes. No stuffiness. Just a gigantic spot in our hearts for this tiny little fluffball.
Since then, Daisy has discovered knee forts, boxes (great for use as cover when stalking prey), lip balm (she pushes my lip balm ball around the apartment -- she doesn't swat it, she pushes it, like she's throwing a basketball), paper bags, and toilet paper rolls; began tucking herself into bed; answers questions and maintains a full conversation with chuffs that she surely knows the meaning of (I get the feeling we've had some very deep philosophy conversations about which I am completely ignorant); plays with her mouse toy like it's her job (this cat actually tosses the mouse with her mouth and then catches it with her paw before tossing it again with her paw and running to fetch it -- I'm pretty sure she has invented a new sport that only she knows the elaborate rules to.... Perhaps our long conversations are her attempts to explain the rules to me.... I must seem so dense to her...); and has discovered the game of chase (she'll give you a nose kiss and then run away, always coming back to make sure you're following, then run away again -- if you switch and start running away from her, she'll chase you.)
And my fiancé has of course completely fallen in love. As anyone with a heart would do. "Do we have to give her back? No one could possibly love her as much as we do!"
"But she's [my friend]'s cat. And we'll get another cat! And you'll love that cat too, right?"
"But that cat won't be Daisy! I don't want to love another cat! I want to love THIS cat!"
Me too. I mean, I want to love all the cats in the world, but I definitely want to love this cat. And look, she loves us back -- she says so -- just wait for it:
She's curled up in my knee fort right now as I type this, her little paws stretched out against my leg.
I love Daisy. And she got my fiancé unallergic to cats. How can I say goodbye?
My friend is planning on taking my fiancé and me for brunch tomorrow before picking Daisy up. My fiancé told me that I can go to brunch with her and he's going to "take a little road trip with Daisy. You're welcome to come with us. I'm not saying I've leaving you. Just that I'm taking the cat and running away."
Ah, the power of a cat's love. What a difference three weeks can make.
...She just readjusted. Now she's helping me write this post:
*If you don't know this reference, allow me to make a book recommendation: https://www.amazon.com/Grinch-Stole-Christmas-Classic-Seuss/dp/0394800796/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1492976650&sr=1-1&keywords=grinch+who+stole+christmas
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