Where's A Good Flea Fogger When You Need It?

Some people attract friends. Some people attract successful people.

I attract cats.

I have often said that if I outlive my husband and live alone, with my daughter abandoning me and living far, far away with her own family, getting on with her own life because she actually has one, not that I would ever be bitter and feel sorry for myself or try to make her feel guilty for taking care of her husband and children and living her life without me far, far away, that I would probably end up as the neighborhood cat lady.

I would take in or at least feed every needy cat in a 3 block radius and everything that resembles a needy cat, except possums. That's just me. I'm crazy like that. I love cats. Always have.

I feel sorry for cats because they can't defend themselves against cruel creatures like humans. Dogs can bite and growl. But cats? The only real damage they ever do to you is when you try to give them a bath. Or maybe when you are on your way out the door to church and they paw your leg to play and snag your pantyhose. Dogs can snag your face.

So, I have always had this mental picture of myself surrounded by well-fed, crazy cats, drinking my coffee, eating all the chocolate I want, watching Seinfeld re-runs for the one thousandth time, defying all threats of unsolicited magazine salesmen and diabetes.

Last night, to my delight, I mean chagrin, I realized I. Am. That. Woman.

Minus the magazine salesmen.

I was up very late making Valentines (that's another post) and I heard a noise on our porch. I looked out my back window to find Black Cat sitting on our patio table. He didn't even jump down when he saw me peek out from the blinds. (A sure sign that this fellow knows I am The Cat Lady.) Then I discovered he had brought his buddy, Mr. Fat Black and White Cat, who was curled up under the patio table, also not budging whatsoever at my presence.

Smart.

Maggie, our rather fat and spoiled cat had not even taken notice at this point. She just slept in the chair, or the sofa, or wherever it was she wished to exist at the time.

Later on, it was like the band started to play again, only without any music.

Make the wailing stop.

When you hear cats wail, you are almost afraid to look for fear of seeing something you'd rather not, covering your eyes and running away from the window screaming, "OH! SWEET MERCY! NOTHING IN ARE YOU THERE GOD? IT'S ME. MARGARET PREPARED ME FOR THAT!"

But I looked anyway and this is what I saw- (It's OK. The kids can stay in the room.)

Black Cat lounging, Mrs. Little Black and White Cat sitting in my patio chair, Medium Sized Black and White Cat strolling, and Grouchy Gray Cat double cat daring Mr. Fat Black and White Cat to get under my patio table.

Five cats. At 2:00 AM. All on my patio.

At this point, Maggie did take notice and she started licking paws and taking names. There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth, lots of hissing and scratching, but mostly just for show.

This is when I realized that I am also a Cat Whisperer, because I am pretty sure, through all of the wailing and hissing and growling, that this is why I heard-

Maggie- "You'd better get off my patio! This is my house and I am in here, and you are out there. Don't make me come out there where it is cold and windy and scary and there is no food and... never mind. Stay as long as you like. "

The Cat Family-

"This is my cat lady and I found her, so you guys had better leave."

"Ooh Look! A playhouse. Makes the perfect outdoor potty."

"Does this patio chair make me look fat?"

"Mommmmy! I want a drink of water!! "

"Go back to sleep."

"Could you guys keep it down!? What will the neighbors think?"

"Good night, John-Boy."

"Good night."

Sweet dreams, my dear furry, flea-covered friends. Sweet dreams.