I have discussed Toni the Cat several times before. Toni’s been living in our house for a good number of years now. She’s actually Haley’s cat. Haley is one of our granddaughters. She came to live with us at the same time Toni arrived. They were a package deal.
Toni the Cat is one mean feline. She’s the kind of cat that cat haters describe when they explain why they don’t like cats. Toni is not friendly. Toni will arbitrarily take a swipe at you as you walk past her. In fact, if she can, she’ll attempt to bite you too. This is no warm and fuzzy lap cat, far from it. Some of the other grandchildren, when they visit, deliberately walk an arc around her, keeping at safe distance to avoid her wrath. They badmouth her all the time.
So I ask you, of the four people who make up our household, why is it I am the one Toni always hangs with? Let me explain. I spend an inordinate amount of time in “my room.” Why? Because it has all my toys, my books, my computers, my radio collection, my stash of cookies, a bed that goes up and down at each end, etc etc. But “my” room is not mine alone. I must share it…with Toni the Cat.
If I am in the bed, Toni is on the desk chair with the cushy cushion. When I get up and I want to sit at my desk, I roll the chair to the bedside and she jumps off and pick a nice warm hallow spot on the mattress. She knows the drill. When I am busy at the computer and she wants to watch what I’m doing, or at least let her presence be known, she will wedge herself into the top tray of my desk-top file unit. It is half the size she is. I have no idea how she manages to shrink herself down enough to fit in, let alone put up with how uncomfortable it must be.
Oh, by the way, just so you know: I am not sacred. She will take the same swipes at me as she does everyone else. She will also spring like a snake, bite my finger slightly then take off like a…like a…like a scared cat. She knows I will swipe back or even throw something at her if she draws blood…and she has.
In the morning, if I have drifted off to sleep unusually later than feeding time, Toni will have no problem putting her entire body in my face as she sashays back and forth in an attempt to get me up, get me downstairs and get her breakfast. Then she’s back on my bed or my chair or in the file tray another day, barely tolerating anyone or anything that enters her realm.
But I, I get a free pass. I have no idea why. Maybe it’s because I don’t attempt to befriend her or demand she cuddle up in my lap portraying a purring furball. Then too, as I write whatever it is I may be pecking away at on the keyboard, she seems interested, in fact, almost supportive, like really caring that what I write might actually be worthy…worthy of what, I am not sure.
I must admit there are times when I am stuck for the right word or have a question about punctuation and I’ll look to Toni to help me out. She merely stares at me and offers nothing–nary a meow. This is what I resent the most about her. Because I know, don’t ask me how, I just know…she’s got a book in her and she knows it’s better than any of the ones I’ve written. Trust me, I know this… it’s just a matter of time when she finally lets it out.