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.
Well, pets are meant to be companions, and in that regard we got to know Tabby well, even if it was only for a few weeks (2). Sure, more often than not we’d have to coax him out from his hiding spots, but he’d also go on the prowl at night, nuzzling furniture and demanding attention. He’d jump on countertops and try to squeeze under the dresser on restless nights, and at times I wasn’t sure whether he meowed out of affection or hunger/disgust at a dirty litter box.
The main downsides of cat maintenance come in the form of constant feeding, litterbox cleanup, and feral carpet/wallpaper/sofa scratching. Whatever they sold at the store wasn’t good enough for Tabby; he went straight for the real goods in furniture and drapery, and I think had he stayed for another month he would have been able to cause some actual damage. Besides minor cat scratches, anyway.
But I suppose it’s not terrible to have a cat around; if nothing else, it’s a furry little creature that livens up a one-bedroom, single-resident condo on cold, winter nights.
lol sounds like you got meowed, I’m surprised it didn,t mark territory