I love my cat, he’s just a simple short-haired tabby but aside from dreaded ex (who is my best friend, but I might not be his), he is my best friend in the whole wide world.
It’s sort of eerie, but pets know when things aren’t so crash-hot. The day I had to tell my (mental health professional) parents I was going to see a shrink, Dear Puss followed me around all day. And no, he did not need feeding. The day I got dumped and the day after, he followed me around, and again, it wasn’t a question of food/letting him out. He even used to try and untangle my hair when I was severely neglecting myself. When I told my mother that the longest I’d gone without a shower in the thick of depression was about 2 weeks, she thought it happened when I was living out of home. Wrong!
About a week ago, Dear Puss comes into my bedroom. He knows something is up (where was he when I first started suffering from depression?!). He does that sexy cat walk and snuggles up next to me. I start to stroke him.
Drat! Curiosity piqued by noise outside of my room! Dash for the door, out he flies.
Leaving me coughing and spluttering…with a cloud of his loose fur. Damn it! How the hell am I ever supposed to pass for a grown-up if I keep getting cat fur all over my clothes?! Ugh, and it’s all over my tiger blankie (I may explain what that is later).
And you all thought this was going to be a post about how pathetic I am post-relationship bust up.
I’m pathetic, but not that pathetic. Can’t Dear Puss just keep his fur to himself?! Fur or lack thereof, he’s bloody gorgeous so he’s got nothing to worry about. His mistress however…I’m trying that “I’m single, trilingual” thing and it’s not working.
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As is typical with this time of year, things going very badly, and getting worse relatively quickly. I took some diazepam (oh how it makes life a bit more bearable!), settled down to take a nap, and who comes into my room and snuggles next to me and stays with me the entire time I’m sleeping? Dear Puss, that’s who. I love you, Dear Puss!
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[...] The fur I’ve already addressed here. God, the fur. Is there anywhere it doesn’t get? I’ve been known to pull it out of cups of tea (yes, I still drunk the rest - still here too), off countless articles of clothing - I even find it strays to my undergarments. How does that happen?! [...]
(whoops; pinged myself by referring to a previous post…)
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