Having a household pet is akin to having a baby without the DNA connection: they’re messy and needy and hungry, crash around the house, and wake up when you sleep. For three weeks, though, I was catsitting for my vacationing uncle, so I guess it can be practice for the real thing (baby, not a litter of cats).
The cat is Tabby: a chubby, unusually timid (even for a cat) animal who specializes in hiding in dark corners. I had looked after him once prior, and back then he found in the laundry room and a niche behind the microwave to be his shrines of solitude. New place, new comfort zones; after locking him for a day inside my current laundry room (1), we fished him out of the corner and into the bottom of the couch. Once we grabbed him from that hiding spot, he went crawling under the bed.