"The animals have no voice but ours..."

Saturday at the Laundromat

June 6, 2008
Jennifer Vanderau
 

So a couple Saturdays ago I spent the morning at the laundromat – but it wasn’t a planned visit.

This is quite an interesting tale involving a certain young, green-eyed feline who I think may have been put on this earth solely to test the limits of my patience.

My youngest is named DeeDee. Don’t ask me where the name came from. I couldn’t tell you. I was babbling my kitty babble to her one night, it slipped out and sort of stuck.

I’ve mentioned her here before – she’s about a year and a half old now and is a bengal cat, who was found along the road in a torrential downpour. She’s got spots like a leopard instead of stripes – and a wild temperament to match. She climbs anything, digs through garbage like a pro and hollers whenever she wants something. She’s quite an addition to my feline menagerie.

Let me take you back to the Saturday in question. I’m snoozing away, happy to be able to get some late morning shut-eye when DeeDee hops up on the bed and begins to paw at the comforter. She’ll claw and claw until I let her under where she likes to make her nest.

I remember groggily saying, “OK, DeeDee. Calm down. Let me get the cover up.”

I gave her some leeway, she crawled on in and I attempted to get back to sleep.

Very shortly thereafter, she starts fussing, trying to get back out from under the covers. I have long since stopped making any attempt to figure out what exactly motivates this crazy little thing, so with a weary sigh, I helped her extricate herself from the bedding, figuring she was bored with bugging me and was going in search of another occupant of the house to annoy.

However (by now I’m assuming you know what’s coming), on her frantic way out from under the comforter, she happened to put one of her little multi-colored paws against my forearm and I remember saying to her, “Why are your feet wet?”

Upon inspection of my bed, I found a fast-absorbing puddle that was making its way through my blankets and sheets. I had to grab some tissues to keep it from getting to the mattress.

Yep. She had decided to relieve herself while under the covers.

I have to tell you, it was with quite a troubled mind and heart that I begrudgingly dragged myself out of bed (far earlier than I had planned) and gathered the bedclothes that morning for the trip to the laundromat. I feared the need to return to sleeping on the plastic picnic tablecloth which has been relegated to the drawer for a while now.

She seems healthy. She doesn’t cry when going to the bathroom. Indeed, just a few days prior to her little morning foray under the covers, I actually witnessed her using the litterbox. I also recall praising her to high heaven when she came out. Clearly that was effective.

And she hasn’t done it again. When I returned from the laundromat and replaced the bedding, she crawled up and promptly went right to sleep on the comforter that now smelled like Tide with Febreeze (oh and by the way, if you haven’t tried that stuff, I highly recommend it).

So what was my little squirt trying to tell me? The litterbox wasn’t clean enough for her specifications? The sheets needed washing? I love you and you're mine, mama?

It’s hard to guess.

I’ve had folks say, “man, that story is gonna keep people from adopting a cat.” And you know, maybe it is. But I’m a firm believer in knowing what you’re getting into and with pets, you have to realize the responsibility of bringing a four-legged friend home.

Nothing in this life is perfect. Really, nothing. Every person has some flaw, every situation usually has some catch. Perfection is something that while it may be out there somewhere, is most certainly quite rare.

Anyone who thinks bringing an animal into his or her life will result in a perfect outcome is, quite frankly, delusional. Dogs are going to make messes on the floor and quite possibly tear up the carpet. Cats could very well from time to time not use the litterbox and most assuredly upchuck a few hairballs during their stay in your abode.

Just today a man who had adopted a pup came in for a visit and said, “He still likes to mark certain parts of the house, but we love him.” I particularly liked the “but we love him” part.

Because I know where he’s coming from. Many people would have turned my little DeeDee into an animal shelter a long, long time ago, citing reasons such as “won’t use the litterbox” or “rips up the garbage.”

But not only am I an incredibly ridiculous sucker for animals, I also understand that along the way in life with a pet you’re going to have little foibles. Moments when our four-legged friends aren’t the perfect companions we’d like them to be.

For me, despite the unplanned trips to the laundromat that may result from sharing my home with a rambunctious, opinionated feline, it’s the moments when she’s purring in my lap or greeting me at the door with her signature trilling meow that more than make up for it.

My little DeeDee ain’t perfect. And really, I wouldn’t have it any other way.  

*****

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