I hate cats.
And so wouldn’t you figure, one day a cat appeared on our front door step. My family thought he was pretty cute and must have been abandoned. I didn’t want anything to do with this cat, and this cat seemed to know the way I felt.
After a hard days work, our family would retire to the basement where would relax in front of the fire with a glass (or two) of body – builder and watch Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune.
This dumb cat thought it was a dog.
The cat seemed to know if it were to have any chance at surviving in our house, it had to make good with me. When I reclined in my favorite rocker I would put my feet up on the foot stool and the cat would jump on my lap – spread out and relax.
I said to Paula, “Look at this dumb cat”.
She said, “I think it knows what side its bread it buttered on.”
Sure enough – we kept the cat – I had no choice – the cat liked me.
I called him Sam and the rest of the family called him Charlie. I think we had the first schizophrenic cat in Simcoe County – either that or he was pretty well adjusted.
He would often disappear for a few days and then reappear looking quit ragged and very tired. We never knew what he had been up to but we always figured he was visiting his girlfriend. His ear would be torn, he was much more inclined to sleep – but he looked quite pleased with himself.
One time he disappeared he never came back.
But then – there was this raccoon who started visiting… but that’s another story.