Embarrassment to the Species

Shades of Grey. That is the name of the world's stupidest, most cowardly, completely devoid of all the instincts innate to its species, cat. The cat actually belongs to my boyfriend. My presence in the apartment when we first started hanging out as friends post my divorce, terrified her even while I was two rooms away.

Stranger Danger! Stranger Danger!

The only way I could have been more threatening, sitting on the couch watching tv, is if I decided to vaccuum. This is a wrongness most species understand, in fact, I myself share the aversion to the appliance.

The things that scare Shades most: anything on the floor. Heaven forbid if the item is *ugh* fluffy. She tentativly reaches out a paw, not actually touching of course, and rears back as if the sweater is in fact a stricking cobra. There is one exception to the floor, plastic bags. Those are friendly and should be slept on or chewed on, or both. She, in her 'fluffy bad' concept, also avoids like the plague the bed, as it tends to be populated by a comforter, an enemy best avoided with poofed tail and big eyes.

Once several years ago, her instincts fired. She is not prey! I am a cat--a predator! (this story was related to me by my boyfriend, as it is before we met.) She was out on the back deck, on the rail, when a pigeon alighted. Time to wax on-wax off, said her kitty brain. She stalked...slowly..so slowly stalked up to it. Succesfull at sneaking up on the head bobbing bird, she swatted it with her clawless front paw. The bird bobbed a step away, and turned toward the odd furball to its left. It need not have bothered, Shades had already retreated in a fluff of panic back into the house. Instincts had said strike, she did, and aaaeeeiiyyyaaahh instincts were WRONG! Thank god she got away before the demon could breathe fire back at her.

It took us about a year to make friends. After she got to where she would let me pet her and such ( a big point for me as I worried that my boyfriend might dump a girl his cat didn't like) I decided to buy my way further into her heart. Inspired by a friend's story of becoming what he called "treat machine" to his wife's beagle pup, I began occasionally buying the cans of wet food.

This was a good move, not only am I in good graces, it taught her to read a calendar. I fed a can to her every other day, and now, every other day, she begins to pay special attention to me, knowing the good stuff is coming.

I know that my boyfriend puts high stock in his brother, with whom he is very close. Knowing that the brother must approve of me, I think I'll begin to bring him cake or beer every other day or something. Though, having him wake me up every other day meowing at me, might become annoying.