Parents and cats ... annoying or a necessary evil?

As much as my parents got on my nerves most of my life, I wish they were still alive. Apart from all the obvious sucky reasons, it would be nice to have someone I could hit up for some "mad money," for things like food, rent, soap, internet connectivity, toilet paper; a working telephone; you know ... crazy luxuries like that.

But you don't need to feel sorry for me, nosiree. You know who saves my life on a daily basis? My cat, "Mouse." She does something every day that makes me glad to be alive just to see it. Today, it was my coat hanging on the back of a chair that made a "tent" for her, the PERFECT cover for surprise cat attacks. Her pounces are adorable. Predictable, but cute as hell all the same. I indulged her feline version of peek-a-boo by pretending I didn't know she was hiding there, lying in wait for unsuspecting cat owners to pass by, just so she could have her fun. Yesterday, she was fascinated by the dangly bit on a zipper. Ping. Ping. PING! Try writing a novel and searching for job openings online with that racket going on.

She drools when I rub her cheeks and plays a good game of fetch, Mouse does. It started with pom-pom balls, but now, whatever she can pick up with her mouth, carry across my apartment and drop at my feet is considered fair game. Pens, coins, tampons (wrapped, of course), the stopper from the bath tub, tea light candles, lipstick, each one yanked a chuckle from me, despite my unemployment worries. And, she snores. The sweetest cat snores you've ever heard. Squeaks and whistles. Bless her fuzzy little heart, I wonder what she's dreaming of. She sleeps with her face nuzzled into me, it's so very sweet. I don't know how she can breathe that way, maybe that contributes to the snoring. But not all the sounds that come out of her are so docile and endearing. There's a raccoon that visits my balcony once in a while that terrifies her into a primordial howl that has woken me from a dead sleep. Never a dull moment.

Mouse is the quintessential "fraidy cat," hence her name. I opened my balcony door to let in some fresh air in today (as I do most days), and she STILL drops to a crouch whenever the curtains blow in the breeze. Mouse, it seems, is afraid of the wind, among myriad other things, including: seagulls, the blender, peculiarly large dust bunnies, cast-off socks, boxes and paper bags (unlike other cats, she avoids them as if they were full of rattlesnakes), any noise above a whisper, my white sunglasses, every closed door, and bubble wrap.

She does love a good toilet flush though, so she would have adored my dad.