rachael vs. cats part one: i have honest-to-goodness dreams about them attacking me. i don't dream about anything more than i dream about cats chasing me, hissing at me, scratching me all over. my first cat dream happened when i was like, nine. it ended with me running down the street, naked, with cats running behind me, scratching my bare skin. gosh dang it, how have i succumbed to these tiny satanic hairballs?!
rachael vs. cats part two: i used to babysit for this nice couple. they had a nice little girl, two nice dogs, and a not-so-nice cat. it (i refuse to give the cat a pronoun other than that which refers to a diabolical, flesh-eating clown) would mind it's own business while i was on the couch, but once i got up, my feet became two little mice to claw and nip at. i learned to wear boots or sneakers and when i was lucky, it would be out in the yard when i arrived. no matter how much it yowled or how hard it was raining, i would not let that cat in. maybe that's why it didn't like me. one day, i didn't see the cat and assuming it was outside, i took my shoes off, putting my guard down. i put the baby to bed and went to the bathroom. when i was done, i opened the door and shut it just as fast, my heart pounding. how did it get inside? and why was it standing right outside the bathroom, waiting to pounce on me? i opened the door again, just a smidge. still there, staring at me. idiot cat. it knew what it was doing. i waited for half an hour. it waited with me. i thought, this is fine. i can just stay here till they get home and pretend like i went to the bathroom. the baby started crying. i panicked a little, trying to will the baby to fall asleep with my mind. she started crying harder. i let her wail for five minutes before i did the most logical thing i could think of. i wrapped a towel around one foot and a "little mermaid" bathrobe around the other and opened the door to brave the hall. i think the bathrobe gave me some semblance of authority to the cat, because it merely watched me dart into the bedroom. i never took my shoes off after that night.
rachael vs. cats part three: i babysat last night. different house, different baby, different cat. this couple had just gotten into town after a week of being gone and as all cat owners know, a week without affection makes a cat extremely needy and desperate for love. the first time she jumped on my lap, i pet her, but quickly put her back on the ground. she jumped up again and when i tried to pry her off me, she dug her nails into my arm. my bare arm! flashbacks of my cat dreams came to me. i sat, frozen, as this cat literally climbed up on my shoulder, purred in my ear, smothered my face, rubbed it head against my cheek. i felt claustrophobic. i reached up and pried her off my neck and hastily put her on the ground as she hissed at me and ran upstairs. that was close. i tried to focus on watching spiderman, but i could only focus on the faint meowing upstairs. meow. meow. meow. meow. meow. meow. meow. meow. oh no. she's coming downstairs. it's getting louder. oh no. what do i do? hide? she's going to find me. she's going to find me and scratch me. meow. meow. meow. meoooow. i grabbed a blanket on the edge of the couch and buried myself in it, so only my eyes were showing and hoped that she wouldn't see me. i guess she didn't. she circled the couch a few times and went back upstairs. i stayed like that until they got home. i have no dignity, was the only thought that circulated through my head.
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