Heartwork

I have recently become a parent, in a manner of speaking. What I’ve actually done, in tandem with my fiancé, is adopt a cat. Now normally I wouldn’t dedicate a blog to waffling on about my personal life, because quite frankly, it would make you all feel jealous and inadequate. However, this story bears repeating, because I think everyone should experience the jolt that your life receives when an animal becomes part of the family.

I should stress at the outset that I’m hardly a shrinking violet when it comes to being responsible. However, our one-year old adoptee has just recovered from major surgery that prevented her from enjoying her youth properly. As a result, things like climbing and running around after toy mice appear to be new and exciting beyond measure. She is, in effect, a one year old semi-longhaired kitten, who wakes us up at 5am by licking our faces, and treats any limb unwarily extruding from a sofa or bed as a monster that needs to be bitten. Even in the middle of the fucking night.

It’s remarkable how many things in our lives have changed as a result of introducing a four-legged friend into the family. The windows stay shut to avoid the outraged yelping noise that invariably results when a cat unexpectedly descends twelve feet onto grass. Used butter knives go sharp-end-down into a mug, lest a little tongue be sliced in two while enjoying a tasty snack, rather than leaving said knife on the worktops in the hope that wind erosion will clean it. Hairs turn up in the most unexpected of places, and I have never spent so much time anxiously looking at curtains as I have done in the last month. Then there’s our new entry procedure when arriving home, which involves inching the front door open before squeezing through sideways and shouting “back back back”, in an attempt to prevent escapology acts. It’s quite a challenge with four shopping bags in your hands, but the neighbours must find it hilarious, and the cat probably quite enjoys it too.

Life has just got a whole lot harder, and I’m only able to type this now because I spent the last hour creating monsters out of straws, tinfoil and various other mundane household objects that apparently adopt magical qualities when viewed through a cat’s unblinking eyes. I’m tired and a bit scratched, our formerly pristine home has disappeared under a fine layer of brightly-coloured toys, and the cat has six times as many beds to choose from as we do. But despite all these sacrifices on the altar of Bastet (Google it), I reckon everyone in the land should adopt a cat, or a dog, or a rabbit, if they can offer it a decent home. I haven’t laughed as much in years, playing monsters is brilliant fun when you’re not half-asleep, and there is something quite wonderful about everyone settling down for a kip at the end of a long evening.

If you already have a pet, you'll know what I mean. And if you don’t, you really should.