There Is a Cat

A cat arrived at our house two weeks ago on trial.  One of our cat consultants arranged for us to try out this cat (and, perhaps, this cat to try us out) without the kind of personal interview that we might again fail or might, perhaps worse, lie our way through.  So the cat is here.

For the first ten days, I practically never saw her. She quickly moved upstairs under our bed and after a few days discovered there was a closet she could get into and retreat equally thoroughly.  When under the bed, Ed would lie on the floor next to her.  More philosophical, I incline toward the view that should she ever want to know me, she will come out from under the bed to the downstairs where mostly I am.

And over time, she has made herself slightly more apparent.  She clearly appreciates Ed having made the effort on her behalf and looks for him when she is downstairs, although she does spot me as the one who will get her food in the early morning when I am up and he is not.

She's uninclined to be held although doesn't mind being petted as long as all four of her feet are on the floor.  She miaows with information, but I rarely know what information she is seeking.  Around 11 pm, she comes downstairs and stands in front of me and says, 'miaew.'  If i don't get up, she walks toward the stairs, looks back at me, and says, 'miaew,' again: a gentle sound.  If I do get up, she shepherds me toward and up the stairs, as if to say, "Time for us all to go to bed." And so we do.

But she repeats this behavior the following morning at 8 am, after her breakfast.  She goes back to bed but we don't.

She is four-years-old and of a tortoise shell appearance.  Mostly she looks like a dark-colored owl with an orange scarf and too many legs.  Name of Zoe.

Three guests came for Christmas and she hasn't been seen since.  Under the bed, in the closet.  In retirement.  Giving new meaning to the descriptor 'indoor cat'--deeply indoors.

I think the cat stays.