Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Wearing Down, Inch By Inch

It was almost two years ago that I went and got Pepper.

The plan was to purchase a Bengal cat (for upwards of $2000), but then the cheap side of me charitable side of me decided that it would be better to adopt a cat that would probably end up going to the pound if I didn't rescue it.

Jeremy looked at me with beady eyes, but acquiesced since I had, unbeknownst to me, given him the idea that I wouldn't move into his uncle's house unless I could have a cat. I don't know where he got that idea. Because, I don't make ultimatums. Usually.

Anyway, Jeremy stated emphatically that the cat belonged in the garage at night, and I sadly agreed, since Pepper was young and tended to poop on things.

After a while, Pepper's charms got to him, and Jeremy decided that, okay, fine, Pepper can stay in at night so she could sleep in a warm room during our chilly winter nights (and he was getting tired of the clumps of cat fluff on his nice button down work shirts that she would leave after sleeping on our unfolded laundry...and the little foot prints she would leave everywhere because the garage is dirty...and probably because he was tired of her messing with all his tiny car parts...and probably because he didn't want Pepper to get brain damage from ramming the back door with her head in the effort to open the door. What can I say? Her brain is really small...) 

For a time, I got perverse delight when Pepper would jump on the bed when Jeremy was gone. I mean, it's a privilege to have a cat sleep on your bed. It really is. But, I would find myself confessing her sins to Jeremy, and he would go all crazy-eyed, and insist that I don't let her on the bed. I obeyed for a while...

...and then I got sick.

Cats have a sixth sense. They know when you need comfort, love and support, and if it means that they get a petting out of it, that's just dandy. So Pepper meowed, jumped on the bed where I was lying in a heap, and curled up at the foot of the bed on Jeremy's side. I thought that rather thoughtful of her. And I fell asleep quite assured that I was being looked after. Good kitty...

Unfortunately, she got the wrong idea though, because that night, as Jeremy and I were trying to fall asleep (read Jeremy was asleep and I was keeping time with his breathing), she leapt up onto Jeremy and meowed really loud, and the result was an extremely startled Jeremy who shot up in bed, and garbled incoherently (and rather loudly) something that sounded like, "WASTHATDACATGIT'EROFFAME!" and then he passed out and crashed down onto his pillow, while I buried my face in my pillow and shook with laughter.

The next day, I confessed to Jeremy about my letting Pepper on the bed. He shrugged his shoulders, and I was genuinely shocked. I thought for sure he would be upset. After we continued talking, he said, "Wait, you said the cat was on the bed?"

"Uh, yeah, I said that," I replied.

"Oh, I didn't understand what you said," he finished. "Yeah, I'm still not okay with her on the bed."

My heart sank.

"Unless she learns to hover on the end of the bed above the blanket," he continued.

He then began making UFO sounds, and laughed at his own wittiness.

I love that man...

But I know eventually the cat will sleep on the bed. Full time. She's already worn him down to the point where he makes baby talk at her, so it's only a matter of time before she wraps her mind controlling tenticles around his brain.

And as the crazy guy from Temple of Doom said,

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