It’s true, but before anyone gets upset about that incendiary statement, let me clarify. Miles is and always will be the furry love of my life. We got each other through some very tough times, and I’d do anything for him. I take wonderful care of him and he’ll be with me forever (actually, at the rate he’s going, he’ll most likely outlive me). That being said, he’s an incredible jerk. Here’s Miles’ story. It’s a long one, so bear with me.
I’ve lived all my life with pets. My family loves animals so we’ve had at one point or another (and I’m sure I’ll forget some) dogs of all shapes and sizes, hamsters, guinea pigs, rabbits, horses and ducks. We also have a cat. We got him right before I left for college, so I didn’t get to spend much time with him. We hadn’t decided on a name when we found him, so we just referred to him as “The Cat” until we thought of something better. He’s about 7 now, and his name is The Cat. We’re clever like that.Anyway, about a year ago, I decided it was time for me to get my first, very own, pet. This was big for me because growing up with animals taught me that they are a major responsibility and commitment not to be taken lightly. I thought a lot about it, and when the time was right decided to adopt a cat. I guess I’d say I’m more of a dog person, but like my family, I love all animals and knew a cat would be better suited for my busy lifestyle than a dog. So, I went to Liberty Humane Society and looked at their cats. I found a beautiful older female cat sound asleep and purring and thought, “This is my cat.” However, my roommate at the time thought it’d be way more fun to adopt a 6 month old blonde cat. Listening to her got me in the position I am now. He was a wild man from the start. They took him out of the cage to show him to me and he scurried up the volunteer’s arm and tried to climb onto his head. I should have known. They told me he would be “significantly calmer” once he got his little snip snip operation. They lied.
I came back a week later to pick up “Yogi” who I rechristened Miles. At first, he really did seem calmer. Then the anesthesia from his operation wore off. The first night was torture. I’ve never been a fan of animals in the bed, so I was determined to keep him on the floor. After many, many sad meows, I caved and let him sleep in bed with me. He quieted down. I fell asleep. He swatted me across my whole face leaving a lovely gash. It turns out he wasn’t a fan of sleeping in the bed, but he didn’t really want me sleeping in it either. We spent 5 nights doing this dance until our schedules finally synced up.
Eventually we reached a happy place. I fed him and took care of him, and he grew to love and trust me. Things were good for about a month. Then the peeing began. He. Peed. On. Everything. The floors, the carpets, my clothes, my bed (!!) nothing was safe. I took him to the vet who determined he was perfectly healthy but stressed. Our living situation was no good. It turns out the very same roommate who picked him out, hated him. Unable to change our situation at the time, I kept the two separated and spent big bucks on a calming collar and an air freshener that released calming scents to cats. We played and cuddled and once again reached our happy place. The peeing stopped thank goodness.At that point, we were really buddies. He’d learned I had his back in tough times, and I felt we were closer having gotten through our little crisis. Then I met Chris. I obviously loved him, but I wasn’t sure how Miles would take to him. I warned Chris, “I have a cat. He’s not always great around new people, but I’m sure he’ll warm up to you.” The first time they met, Miles locked eyes with Chris and never stopped staring. He’s lose his mind when Chris came to the door. He’d force his way between us on the couch while we were watching a movie. He developed a habit where he’d purr so much when Chris would pet him that he’d wind up drooling all over his lap. That’s a fun thing to explain to a new boyfriend. After their lovefest began, I started noticing little changes in Miles. He’d always greeted me at the door since he was a baby. Now, however, he’d still rush to the door when he heard me coming, but once he realized it was just me, no Chris, he’d literally turn tail, walk away and go back to doing whatever he was doing. I didn’t think anything of it.
When we moved in with Chris, Miles’ life got exponentially better. He got to live in a much more cat friendly apartment (carpeted, huge windows, lots of stuff to climb on), he got away from the roommate that hated him and he got to move in with his lover. His happiness increased tenfold. That’s when he became a major jerk.
Chris does more than his share of Miles work. He cleans up after him, plays with him and always tops off his food and water. However, I’m still the one who feeds him most often. Cats love the person that feeds them. Right? Wrong. This is what life is like with Miles now:
We attempted to keep Miles off the furniture, so I bought him a bed that is honestly more comfortable than our own bed. He slept in it for one day.
Then he resumed sleeping on the couch. We bought a blanket to cover the couch and try and reduce the cat hair, so now he sleeps in an uncomfortable wicker basket I bought for magazines.
I come home from work first most days. Miles rushes to the door, sees that it’s me and walks away. When he’s too lazy to walk away. He turns around and plants himself with his back to me. He’s not allowed in the bedroom because I’m genuinely afraid he’ll smother Chris by his undying need to get ever closer to him. I’m usually the first one that comes out of the bedroom in the morning. Miles waits by the door. When he sees that it’s me and not Chris, he repeats his coming home from work routine. If Chris is in the room, Miles is one his lap, purring, drooling. The only thing that ever gets Miles off Chris’ lap is when he’s hungry. When this happens, he walks off Chris’ lap, walks up to me, screams at me until I feed him, eats and goes back to Chris’ lap. If I try to pet him, he walks away and sits 4 feet away with his back to me. If I talk to him, he looks at Chris. Not only can I do no right, but Chris can do no wrong either. If Chris uses the vacuum, Miles’ arch nemesis, I get the stink eye. If Chris works late, Miles stares at me accusingly. This is our life now. I beg for his attention, he begs for Chris’.
So, therefore, my cat is a jerk.
Honestly, I wouldn’t change a thing. Miles is the furry love of my life whether he likes it or not and Chris is just the love of my life. I knew I loved Chris the minute I saw him too, and that’s never waned for me either, so I guess I get where Miles is coming from. I don’t mind being the one who keeps everyone fed (that’s the Italian in me) even if only one member of the household thanks me . I feel very lucky that the two boys I love most love each other, and I’m so thankful that Chris has more than enough love to go around.
Still, my cat is a jerk.