This is a repost of a blog entry that I originally made on July 21st. Being as some people enjoyed it -- and because the original version was lost due to the database corruption that I mentioned in a previous blog entry -- I have decided to post it again for your renewed enjoyment . . . with a bit of updated information, of course.
As I first mentioned a few weeks ago, I am happy to announce that Socks is now a full member of our family, and a "legal resident" of our home.
Who is Socks? Well, the story goes like this:
In June of this year, and against my wishes, my daughter arrived home one day with a young black and white cat, which I estimate to be approximately 6-9 months old. Without going into all of the details concerning why she brought the cat home, against my better judgment -- another expense on our already tight budget, smelly cat poop to clean up, cat hair all over the place, things scratched up by little claws, etc. -- I agreed to let Socks "board" with us for two weeks until she could be returned to her regular home.
Oh dread! . . . The cat was not litter box trained!
That first day there were two or three smelly accidents on the carpet . . . and you'll never guess who cleaned them up. Yes, that's right; me!
I gave my daughter an ultimatum: either the cat was litter box trained right quick, or it could not possibly remain with us. My daughter knew very little about cats at the time; so again, it fell upon me to do the deed . . . and I did. By day number two, Socks was fully litter box trained, and that was her salvation. Gosh . . . what cats will do under pressure! 
Then came the realization that Socks also had fleas. Oh joy, oh bliss! Who doesn't enjoy giving a cat a flea bath! Never mind that cats are afraid of water and fearful of drowning, in spite of your words of comfort to them. The neighbors must have surely thought that we were torturing the cat, going by the pitiful sounds that were emanating from our apartment as I bathed her with flea shampoo . . . which I repeated a week later. Well, Socks survived both ordeals, and so did I, although I was rewarded with one long scratch wound on my right forearm, which has since healed quite well. So much for cat appreciation!
Aside from my aforementioned concerns, my other concern was the landlord. As a long-time tenant of almost twenty-three years, I knew their policy regarding having pets such as cats and dogs, and I informed my daughter of this from day number one. I made it clear to her that if they said that Socks had to go, then Socks simply had to go; period.
Well, the two-week "boarding" period came to an end, and my daughter informed me that it was no longer possible to return Socks to her former home, because they did not want her there. By this time, however, the relationship between Socks and I had changed considerably. As much as I love animals -- including cats -- in the beginning, I was determined to keep a respectable distance between the two of us, emotionally, and otherwise. I was not going to let Socks manipulate me with her pleadings and soft purrs. Nope; not me. I am the master, and she is the "temporary boarder", right?
Well, if you believe that, then you obviously don't realize what masterful psychologists and manipulators cats can be.
For example, whereas at the beginning of the two weeks I informed my daughter that Socks would be restricted to dry cat food and water alone -- and no expensive treats -- by the time the two weeks were up, Socks was enjoying special treats such as canned tuna, lean white chicken breast, and even yogurt which she seems to like, by my hand! Furthermore, with my slow consent, she has even violated the hard fast rule of not going on my bed, and much less sleeping there. In fact, now I invite her to sleep there as often as she likes!
In a word, Socks the cat now has full run of the house . . . and I do mean the ENTIRE house! She sleeps wherever she wants. She prances all over my computer desk, making it difficult for me to work. She has finally figured out how to jump from the step ladder, over to the kitchen table, then to the washing machine, then to the sink counter, and finally to the counter where we prepare our food. Little schemer!
But that is not all. Dear Socks helps herself to water from my Malawi cichlid aquarium whenever she feels like it . . . and probably schemes and dreams about how she will catch one of my fish one of these days. She wakes me up at odd hours of the night when her food is low, or when she feels lonely and just wants some affection. Do I really need to tell you how much she thoroughly enjoys long head, neck and throat rubs? My gosh . . . she is like a little love-starved child!
But guess what? After I spend my time affectionately scratching her head in all the right places, and talking to her softly, she decides, "Okay, that's it, we're done;" . . . and then she prances off just like the aloof, independent cat that she tends to be. Not a word -- or meow -- of thanks. It is as if she views my scratching her head as a part of my official duty to her. Spoiled little princess!
So let's be honest here, shall we? In case you haven't figured it out yet, Socks has trained me well, and she has the "master" wrapped around her little paw!
Boy, I am certainly glad that I have kept that darn cat in line and showed her who is the boss! I have dominated her! Not!
Being the animal lover that I am, and not having the heart to take Socks to the local pound where she might end up being put to sleep, or to the pet store, and no longer wanting her to return her former home, even if she could, I made a call to our landlord and informed him that I had to talk to him. He came over one day to finish installing a new screen door on our apartment, which gave me the opportunity to tell him about Socks. There really wasn't any need to say much after Socks made her grand appearance in order to investigate what they were doing to her new apartment. I hope that she was satisfied with the work.
A couple of decades my junior, our landlord is a rather laid-back guy, and we have a good rapport. After informing him of how Socks came to be with us, he joked around a bit, as is his nature, and then he informed me that he doesn't have a problem with us keeping Socks, to my relief. In fact, he even mentioned how Socks can keep me company; which is indeed true, being as my daughter is away from the house a lot. As I said earlier, over the past six weeks or so, Socks and I have grown rather close . . . or maybe it is all just in my head. I am wondering if I am the only one who has made an emotional investment here, and this sly cat is just leading me on. Whatever the case may be, I intend to give her a very good life, however long that may be.
So once again, that is the story of how Socks became a full member of our family, and a legal resident of our home.
Oh, and by the way; I think that it is time that I confess that I didn't really litter box train Socks. I just think that being the manipulator that she is, she made the shrewd determination that if she gave me a little cooperation by acquiescing to the litter box thing, she could advance her own plans of moving in permanently. Apparently it worked, because now she is not going anywhere! She is now MY cat, despite protestations from my daughter!
I hope that you have enjoyed this short story, and perhaps even found it a bit amusing. I had fun writing it. Please feel free to share your comments below.
