I have a cat named “Ed.” Actually, he’s been called “Edwina Scissorhands,” and “Edward Scissorhands,” but now he’s just plain “Ed.”
He’s about 10-12 years old now. One winter he adopted us. It was bitterly cold outside, and he found his way into the garage. I saw him resting on the seat of the lawn mower. Of course, I asked DH to let him into the house, and his response was to bring a heater to the garage.
Well, the temperature dropped drastically outside, and the heater had to be moved to the attic to keep the pipes from freezing upstairs. Of course, without the heater, the garage was freezing, and that’s when Ed managed to get into the house.
The rest is history.
He’s needed a lot of loving lately. You have to give it to his specifications or he’ll swipe a paw at you in irritation. He’ll also swipe a paw at you if you quit before he’s done. Right now, he’s laying next to my elbow, with his head upside down. Give it a minute or two and I’ll be able to look into his mouth when his lips flap open.
As much as I came to love Defer, I’ll always be a cat person. I like their independence. There are two things that interest me about Ed. The first is that he is a creature of habit. He wants to be let out before sunrise, and he wants to be fed (for the first time) several hours later. We expect him to return to the house by two in the afternoon, and for the most part he obliges us. He comes to me for a snack at six in the evening, and a second snack at nine. Each time he expects to be stroked and loved up. Then, if I sit to read, and pull a quilt over my legs, he’ll join me for a bit.
The second thing that interests me is how he’s become more socialized over the years. Ed must have been someone’s pet. I’m sure that he was abandonded after he had become accustomed to being touched by people because he loves to be stroked and scritched. But, when he first came to us, he was well on his way to becoming ferel. Our son worked with him, patiently offering a hand, a pat, some loving…..a bit at a time, until Ed was comfortable around him. Now, he expects us to “love him up,” and that includes from the tip of the nose to the tip of the tail.
Each year he has sought us out more. If we are gathered in the living room, he’s likely to check on us before finding a spot for a comfy nap. While he’s still independent, it’s as though he needs the reassurance that we are there. He’s in and out a dozen times a day, ostensibly for a nibble, but more to make sure that we are there to do his bidding.
Right now, he’s dead to the world. I can expect the snoring to start at any moment. He makes life look easy.