Emily the Cat, or YACPB (Yet Another Cute Pet Blog)

Emily the cat is the 11-year-old surviving sister of Charlotte the cat--Charlotte of the mangled foot due to curiosity about an exercise bicycle in full spin. Emily was left behind when Charlotte died a couple of years ago, and her eccentricity has increased exponentially now that she is the last cat left.

Cats are not supposed to be needy or lonely. But Emily is. She sits expectantly by my side as I read the paper or work on the computer, awaiting the chance to climb up and drape herself over my right shoulder, purring all the while. She can get a little testy when I set her back down, and she’s not above a quick angry growl and baring of the teeth to make her feelings clear.

Emily the cat misses my children, who have thoughtlessly gone off to college and left her behind. They would let her sleep on or near their heads each night, purring loudly into their ears. I am not as liberal.

Every morning at precisely 9 a.m., my husband (who claims to want nothing to do with Emily the cat and assures me that there will never be another cat, ever) prepares a special treat for her in the kitchen. Although the treat no longer comes in cans but in plastic pouches, the sound of the can opener brings Emily running, certain it is treat time.

Emily cries. A lot. She cries to be let in, and cries to be let out. She cries to be allowed into the pantry where there are surely mice, although she has never produced one. She stands in the echoing spiral staircase well and lets out long, drawn out yowls. She cries at 4 a.m., certain that if she can only be freed into the darkness that hunting opportunities will abound.* She cries to be let back in at 4:03 a.m. having realized that it is 7 degrees Fahrenheit outside and snowing steadily.

If it takes awhile to rouse a human to open the door and let her back in on a cold, cold night, she will make staccato comments as she trots inside: “Rowr. Rowr-rowr-rowr-rowr-rowr.” Her message is clear. And my role is clear: to obey.

*I fear that she is more likely to end up the hunted rather than the huntress, since mountain lions, coyotes and foxes have all been spotted in our South Boulder neighborhood.