"I call him Cosmic Creepers because that's the name he came with."

Friday, February 15, 2008

aka: The Part Where I Talk About My Cat On the Internet

In October, right before we found out I was pregnant, David and I took in a stray cat that had been living under a wood pile behind an apartment complex next to our old place. A regular at the bar we used to live above spotted him under a car, and after trying several unsuccessful times to lure him out he finally got David's attention. The cat (like most small, adorable things) instantly took a shine to David and went running over to him, purring and such. So when I came home from visiting my parents that day there was an tiny black muffin in my apartment, and what choice did I really have? After that he quickly became a part of our family, fleas and all (well, we evicted the fleas).

Cosmo (short for Cosmic Creepers, named after Ms. Price's cat in 'Bed Knobs and Broomsticks') is definitely an eccentric. Despite being, as far as we know, feral for the first 6 months to a year of his life, he's a complete cuddlebug and also a total feline genius. Even though he's got a few odd habits (we call him a trashcan cat because of his affinity for things like trash, bathrooms, and rolling around in dust), he repeats the things I say back to me by meowing with the same inflection I put on my own words. I think he believes David and I are the biggest, ugliest cats he's ever seen and is desperately trying to communicate with us the same way we try to with him: mimicry. A commercial came on television once where a women's voice called "Coffeeeeeeee!" in a similar way to how I say his name, and from the next room he meowed back, thinking it was me looking for him. I speak to him in an alternate language that his being so fucking adorable just naturally brings out of me; I'll spare you the details, but there are a lot of b's and o's in it. He's been my constant companion through this sick, hard pregnancy and all the long days I've had to stay home on the couch. He's been invaluable to me, keeping me sane with his general awesomeness.

(Cosmo's very important input: "nm jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj
jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjh bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb
bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn
nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn")

The week before we moved, we had to scramble to get all of his medical work done. The Saturday prior to the move he got his first round of shots, dewormer, etc. That was traumatizing enough for him (he fights us whenever we try to take him anywhere slightly resembling "outside" - apparently he has no desire to ever return to his woodpile existence), but then the following Thursday he was neutered. Since he's an older cat (the vet thinks he's about a year old) the surgery affected him differently than it did ever other animal I've kept, who were all neutered or spade while very young. Honestly, I wasn't sure he'd ever be the same. For days and days and days he sulked around, never meowed, his breathing was irregular, he didn't show any interest in affection. I was sure we'd killed his spirit and was had made up my mind never to forgive myself. I had to literally chase him down and stuff him into his cat carrier to bring him here to my grandmothers house in Springfield, and he glared at me from the backseat the entire way.


(an idea)

Amazingly enough, he's taken to my grandmothers house in a way I never expected. Maybe it's because he has so much more room to move around now, or because there hasn't been any other animals here since the 70s, but Cosmo has officially decided this house is his home. Within minutes of being let out of his carrier he was running around, exploring, not shy at all. It was like he came back to life instantly! He sits in front of the den window for hours looking out at the squirrels and the crows in the yard; his body literally shakes with excitement. He runs around and plays just like he used to, except now he has lots of different places to hide. And, thank god, he's vocal again- every time I get up at night to pee (this happens approximately 14 thousand times) he follows me down the hallway like a toddler, meowing and bouncing alongside of me. He basically is attached to every part of this house, which is a LITTLE unfortunate considering we'll be moving into the basement next week (when my grandmother comes back; she hates cats), but once we get down there he'll have an entirely new universe to explore. Cross your fingers!

I won't get into the logistics of living at my grandmothers yet, only because it seems so time consuming and probably boring to type it all out. I will say, though, that the second night we were here I had a dream about my grandfather. He rang the doorbell (to the house he lived in for 50 years) and when I answered it he came in, dressed up in his winter gear, smiling and asking us how we liked the house. That's got to mean something, right?