Monday, March 7, 2011

Blog, Welcome the Poofs

And now, poofs, I will drink and write.

I'm cat sitting for my friend Alair. It's really been a nice change of pace. I get to stay in a super sweet apartment downtown with two persian cats who kind of hate me. It's like being on a mini vacation where I still have to go to work every day and crack open a couple cans of fancy feast at the behest of felines with mush faces. It is strangely reminiscent of my days back in Maple Grove what with my watching Intervention on demand with mush face animals staring at me. However these mush faces are nothing compared to the joy that was/is Santiago (yes, I lost him in the break up, he is Ryan's dog and probably the biggest heartbreak of all when I think about it). I don't mean this in any offense to Alair. And also, they really are no comparison to begin with since they are cats and not a pug dog who loves me with all his little pug heart. I think I'm growing on them though. Today one made the move to sit on the couch while I was also sitting on it. The other, last night jumped into bed with me and made me pet him for awhile before quietly slipping away into the closet. I consider these small victories since when I first was here they wouldn't even allow themselves to be in the same room as me. Oh cats. You're so moody and strange. You take such patience. Well, you're lucky (or perhaps cursed, I'm not sure how you feel about me yet). I'm here allll week. Get used to it. I'm like a taller, midwestern/scandanavian version of your mom. Only I'm not working on my dissertation nor am I about to marry a guy and move to North Carolina. But other than that, the similarities are kind of endless, if you keep our similarties to the fact that at the moment we are both academic advisors at Capella.

Anyhow, blog. I'm working to get the poofs accustomed to my personal habits. Like drinking and writing in you. They may think I'm working on my very own dissertation, which is cool. If a couple of cats think I'm smart enough to be writing a dissertation, I can deal with that. But it's not true poofs. I'm just blogging. Way less cool, but perhaps just as lucrative? Only time will tell. And what does it matter? You, like Santiago, are illiterate. I don't care how much you judge me from that coffee table Chew Chew, you can't read. I know you can't because at the end of the day you're a cat. But you know what you can do Chew? You can jump up on the counter that is like 15 times your height and that is amazing. I can't do that.

Wow. Yeah. Not to bring up the heartbreak that occurred back in October, but I've moved into the acceptance stage of everything and Ryan really isn't on my mind much anymore at all. Am I completely over him? Probably not. But I know I'm over him enough to where I don't have to worry about bringing him up at every turn. That's kind of liberating to know...

But the thing that has emerged from this drawback of heartbreak is that I never really mourned the loss of Santiago in all of this. He may be more difficult to get over too because I know he loves me with all his pug heart still. He never did anything to me. He never wanted me out of his life. I know if I saw him again, he'd be really happy to see me and would jump up on me and snort and wag his tail. I'd crouch down to his level and kiss his little pug head and let him lick my face. I'd pick him up and give him a hug and then I'd find a toy for him to chase for five minutes until he's ready to hyperventilate. Then he'd curl up with me on a couch and fall asleep, snoring the evening away. Well, that's what it was like every day when I'd come home from work anyway. I'd imagine it would be something like that if I were ever to see him again.

That dog would follow me around every day. I'd cook in the kitchen and sing to him. "Santiago, Santiago, you're so cute, and adorable." I know, my lyrics are really original. I'd change the sheets on the bed and he'd be there. I'd go downstairs to vacuum, he'd be there. Click click click click would go his little nails on the hardwood floor. Snort snort snort all night long. He was such a good dog. Always when I was cleaning, he'd be there watching me, keeping me company. And when I needed him to get out of my way, he was always ready to cooperate by going into his cage. What a good friend indeed.

I shouldn't drink and write with poofs nearby. They are sweet in their own way, but they also make me think back to the last time I shared a living space with an animal and make me sad. It doesn't help to know that Santiago is currently being pet-sat himself and I'm not the one doing it. But at least I can verify my self worth with keeping Noodles and Chew Chew alive over the next week. I have a feeling come Saturday or Sunday or whenever Alair gets back from her love fest with the fiance, I'm going to be a little sad to say goodbye. I think right now, they are learning about me just as much as I'm learning about them.

Poofs? You guys are going to have so much fun with me here. We're going to continue to drink and write every night and you guys are going to curl up with me at some point, I don't care how much you judge me. You know it Noodles. I saw how much you wanted to sit with me on the couch earlier. Don't deny yourself the pleasure of cuddling with me, poof. You and I both know you'll cave sooner than later. For now I'll continue to do my thing whilst you both do your own. But know that I'm ready for pets and cuddles whenever you are because I know what it's like to be without.

No comments:

Post a Comment