At the End of a Long Workday
You Know What I Look Forward To?
My kitten.
My kitten is a cutie. My kitten is furry and fluffy and vocal and … did I say she’s a cutie?
She’s a cutie.
She’s funny, too. She made expressions of awe and disbelief when I taught her about doors.
What do I mean by “taught her about doors”? I mean I performed a classic demonstration of how they work.
See, my kitten adopted me, not the other way around. A few months ago I noticed her hanging around, mewing, looking hungry and lonely and in need of care. She’s black and white and she needed some love.
She was skittish. I couldn’t even pet her at first.
I didn’t have any kitten food. It’d been years since I last had a cat. But I had some tuna. She scarfed it down on my back deck.
Thankfully, she hung around.
Her skittishness gradually subsided. She didn’t like being petted too aggressively at first. Sometimes she swiped at me and ran away. But the more I fed her and watered her, the more she trusted me.
And then came the event with the doors.
First, the Garage Door
A couple weeks ago I had an issue with my garage door. A cable broke. So I went out my back door, by the deck — the realm of my kitten friend. Normally when she saw me, I came from around the side of the house.
But when I opened the door her eyes bugged out.
She looked perplexed and amazed, curious and distrusting of such magic. This look went on for a couple weeks. Whenever I came through the backdoor, she didn’t understand it.
Until, finally, she came to expect me to appear through the magic portal.
And now she scratches on the back door whenever she hears me first thing in the morning.
Getting Her Inside
The weather has been relatively mild so far, which is nice for a few reasons. If the weather were harsher, I would have brought my fluffy friend inside already.
But she doesn’t like it.
At first I opened the back door and tried coaxing her inside. The cutie pie wouldn’t have it.
But eventually she put a paw in, and then another paw, and then she put her hind paws on the carpet. She rubbed up against the doorframe and darted back out, meowing close by but never exploring much farther than that.
After doing this for a while she began venturing farther and farther into the livingroom. But any sudden sound and she bolted right out.
It’s been a process.
I am, however, glad to initiate her slowly rather than stuffing her inside and saying “It’s too cold and snowy, kitten.” I’m gone for long hours throughout the day, and it is going to be hard for Cutie Pie to adjust, toys or no toys.
The Demonstration
One night, about a week and a half ago, she came inside and I closed the door.
She. Did. Not. Like. That.
Not even a little bit.
As soon as the door closed she ran over to it and meowed and meowed and meowed. She pawed at the door. She scratched at it. She got behind the blinds and climbed up, trying to get outside, like she was reaching for the doorhandle because she knows how it works but she isn’t tall enough to grasp it.
It made me feel bad.
I kept her inside for about an hour, though. I convinced her to hop up on the couch and I rubbed her and listened to her deep purr. I showed her around the house, although she wasn’t interested in the other rooms.
The garage was a different matter, however.
I had to grab something out of the garage — and in order to do that, I had to open the door that led to the garage. And this furball was keenly interested.
She watched it happen in real time. I walked over to the door, grabbed the handle, twisted, pushed, and stepped through …
(Yeah, I know you know how a door works. Shut up and keep reading.)
Cutie Pie meowed her way into the garage.
She meowed all over!
She meowed into the dark crevices. She meowed at the big garage door. She meowed at me. Finally she stopped meowing and spoke English outright, saying, “Swivels, it’s a beautiful evening. Let me out of her or I’ll claw at your balls.”
I said, “Cutie Pie, I’m demonstrating how doors work.”
Cutie Pie retorted, “How about you demonstrate the back door and let me outside? Theres’s vermin I want to attack.” Meow, meow.
It’s hard to argue with that logic.
Ultimately …
Ultimately, Cutie Pie began to understand how doors work. I know this because she said, “Swivels, I’m ultimately beginning to understand how doors work. But I’m a kitten, and I’m probably not going to be very talented at them. So I’ll need to keep you around. And you will need to let me in and out.”
This time, I had the perplexed look. Because I was listening to my cat.
“Swivels!” Cutie Pie said. “Your balls are dangling and my claws are sharp. Are you going to let me out or what?”
Sheepishly, I opened the door.
Her tail bounced in the air as she purred her way over the threshold.
“Thank you!” she said, padding across my deck.
“Uh, sure,” I said, a little sad because I wanted her company.
I bet she tells great jokes …
