Our Furry Baby

I feel I've waited a sufficient amount of time and can now indulge in a cat - centered blog post. Rex is a central figure around our house, and as I waited through the small hours in Chicago O'Hare a week ago, I realized how much I wanted to return home to my husband, my children - and my cat. Pet-love is a new thing for me, and I snuck surreptitious glances at my airport neighbors to see if they could detect the crazy. One twenty-something female in pajama pants held a stuffed animal, and her boyfriend sported a blue t-shirt with a 'Go Cats!' logo, so I felt reassured.

Rex has at least twenty different vocalizations that range from "Me - wow - wow" to "Yooooowl" to "Meh." When Rob gets home, Rex immediately jumps on the kitchen counter to hide between a narrow wall, ready to play hide-and-seek with the most playful human in the joint. The sight of his small triangular face peering around the wall to find Rob, and his startled leap in the air when Rob catches him from behind, provoke nightly gales of laughter. Rex has no fear of a  biped twenty times his size, and persists in starting the game over again each time by walking across the counter to peer in the other direction.

The cat does have a few bad habits. He poops a lot, and uses his tongue as toilet paper. This gives me pause when he plants "kisses" on my forehead. Rex sits in the shower and refuses to move until we turn the water on full blast - I think I may have partly solved the mystery of why he is so water -focused today when I caught him licking Epsom Salts off the top of the ziploc bag. The cat eats my flowers and plants, forces me to put my vases eight feet high where no one can smell the flowers, and sits at the screen doors crying to go out all day, only to refuse when we put him on the cat-leash to "walk" him around the backyard.

When all is said and done, he is our furry baby, with simple responses and warm, purry affection for whomever has the best seat. In this complex and crazy world, you can't beat it.