Encore: Lest They Call Me Grimalkin

“Time spent with cats is never wasted.” Sigmund Freud

I’m thinking of getting a cat.

I’ve always been a cat person. I like how they feign indifference.

I came home today after a long day at work and I was greeted by the blooming vase of lilies sitting on my dining room table.

Seemingly anticipating my arrival.

And as welcoming and pretty as they might have been (offering a distraction from the snow swirling outside my window) I can’t help but admit that it would be far more entertaining and agreeable to interact with an entity that possesses a heartbeat.

A cat in all its furry, purry goodness.

But, alas, I fear for the safety of another living being if it is to share space and oxygen with moi.

First of all I forget to feed myself let alone something else that also requires nourishment. Lilies aside, I’ve always resorted to idiot proof plants. The kind that can droop for days and only need is a splash of water to regenerate. Granted a cat wouldn’t let me forget to feed it, I can’t help but think I’d neglect it severely in some other way.

My cat would need fresh air. I live on the third floor. My fear would be kitty would squeeze through the railing and plummet to its death to the cement of the balcony below. Not only would I be heart-broken, I wouldn’t have the stomach to clean up the mess.

And you can just imagine the counselling sessions that would ensue.

So, I’m still in deep contemplation. I’ve been entertaining the possibility of an animated hot water bottle in feline form for a while now. What I need to decide is whether it’s a whim or a want. And to be honest, the responsibility kind of freaks me out. What if the cat I adopt turns out to be psycho? or sick? or had bonding “issues”?

*sigh*

What to do. What to do.

Interestingly enough the archaic term for cat is “grimalkin”. Did you know grimalkin also meant “spiteful old woman”?

Maybe this is it. Maybe this is my reason for needing to nurture another living thing.

I’m afraid I will turn into one of those crazy, scornful old ladies who lives by herself and has no friends because she’s too busy being nasty and maleficent.

Well I have to admit I have talked myself into a conumdrum. I am no closer to deciding what course to take than I was when I first started writing this entry.

Maybe I’ll settle on a fish and see how that goes.

If it doesn’t work out a solution is only a flush away.

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