Nearly a month ago our lives changed.
That Thursday afternoon we received a call from the professor who has been our contact person with all matter relating to the house. Four words out of her rather lengthy message held our attention: Jake is coming home.
Oh dear.
Who is Jake, you ask? Well, let me tell you a story. Once upon a time, there was a cat who lived in a house with a dog, a hamster, and six people. This cat loved to spend long lazy days sleeping in the sun and late nights exploring the neighborhood and/or curled up on someone's bed. While perhaps not enjoying the most exciting life, he was a content cat.
Until one day, when life got just a little more interesting.
On Wednesday of finals week last semester Jake got hit by a car. He survived, but the impact tore quite a few ligaments in his legs. This meant that Jake, outdoor hunter extraordinaire, needed not only to be confined inside but to be kept from jumping, climbing, and basically any kind of movement for at least a month.
Problem.
Thankfully, the family had a friend who really, really likes cats. This friend also (conveniently) does cat rehab (yes, this exists - also graphic design on the side) in her home. Therefore, Jake was able to spend the past two and a half months recuperating, relaxing, and being lazy (also, getting fat, but that may or may not have been his fault).
We anticipated Jake's return in February, but the month came and went with no word. Then the first Sunday of March, he was carried to our door and released to re-familiarize himself with the place he once called home. The only real instructions we received were to keep him indoors the best we could for the rest of that day. "Enjoy," she said with a laugh and left.
And then, we were on our own. Or, so we thought. Jake apparently thought he needed to remind us of his presence...for the rest of the evening. Just imagine this:
http://www.youtube.com/v/Rkde5GBgEp4&fs=1&source=uds
over and over and over again.
Jake did actually manage to escape once that day, but don't worry, we chased and caught him. Oh yes, twenty-two years old and chasing a cat around my professor neighbor's house - that looks great.
Since that time, Jake has become...well, perhaps not less obnoxious, but we've all gotten more used to him. Except for one thing.
We live in an area that is surrounded by a ravine and moderately large hills full of trees and bushes (and of course music). So, here's the thing about areas like this: wild animals also share our habitation. Jake likes to remind us of this. As of 10 this evening he has left us 21 surprises (although, by this time it's not that surprising). What surprises? Rats.
We have shared the fact that Jake likes to leave us rats - whole, partially whole, less than partially whole (you get the idea) - on both the front and back porches (at first, he was partial to the back, but now he's being more inclusive - so egalitarian of him; quite fitting), and they have attempted to convince us that these are presents, signs that he loves us, representations of his affections in his animalistic way.
All I have to say, is that if someone thinks a dead, often chewed up rodent is a symbol for amore, there may be a problem.
Also, the cat doesn't like us.
Sarah tries, and he kind of likes her.
At least we still have one Kat who loves us.
That Thursday afternoon we received a call from the professor who has been our contact person with all matter relating to the house. Four words out of her rather lengthy message held our attention: Jake is coming home.
Oh dear.
Who is Jake, you ask? Well, let me tell you a story. Once upon a time, there was a cat who lived in a house with a dog, a hamster, and six people. This cat loved to spend long lazy days sleeping in the sun and late nights exploring the neighborhood and/or curled up on someone's bed. While perhaps not enjoying the most exciting life, he was a content cat.
Until one day, when life got just a little more interesting.
On Wednesday of finals week last semester Jake got hit by a car. He survived, but the impact tore quite a few ligaments in his legs. This meant that Jake, outdoor hunter extraordinaire, needed not only to be confined inside but to be kept from jumping, climbing, and basically any kind of movement for at least a month.
Problem.
Thankfully, the family had a friend who really, really likes cats. This friend also (conveniently) does cat rehab (yes, this exists - also graphic design on the side) in her home. Therefore, Jake was able to spend the past two and a half months recuperating, relaxing, and being lazy (also, getting fat, but that may or may not have been his fault).
We anticipated Jake's return in February, but the month came and went with no word. Then the first Sunday of March, he was carried to our door and released to re-familiarize himself with the place he once called home. The only real instructions we received were to keep him indoors the best we could for the rest of that day. "Enjoy," she said with a laugh and left.
And then, we were on our own. Or, so we thought. Jake apparently thought he needed to remind us of his presence...for the rest of the evening. Just imagine this:
http://www.youtube.com/v/Rkde5GBgEp4&fs=1&source=uds
Jake did actually manage to escape once that day, but don't worry, we chased and caught him. Oh yes, twenty-two years old and chasing a cat around my professor neighbor's house - that looks great.
Since that time, Jake has become...well, perhaps not less obnoxious, but we've all gotten more used to him. Except for one thing.
We live in an area that is surrounded by a ravine and moderately large hills full of trees and bushes (and of course music). So, here's the thing about areas like this: wild animals also share our habitation. Jake likes to remind us of this. As of 10 this evening he has left us 21 surprises (although, by this time it's not that surprising). What surprises? Rats.
We have shared the fact that Jake likes to leave us rats - whole, partially whole, less than partially whole (you get the idea) - on both the front and back porches (at first, he was partial to the back, but now he's being more inclusive - so egalitarian of him; quite fitting), and they have attempted to convince us that these are presents, signs that he loves us, representations of his affections in his animalistic way.
All I have to say, is that if someone thinks a dead, often chewed up rodent is a symbol for amore, there may be a problem.
Also, the cat doesn't like us.
Sarah tries, and he kind of likes her.
At least we still have one Kat who loves us.
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