Glad, the cat

For Riley’s 7th birthday her father decided a cat would be the best present ever.  So we went to the pet store where the kitty foster care agency was trying to adopt some out and the lady asked if black was okay.  We said sure and she reached into one of her cages and shoved something into our cage and we took it home without even seeing it.  In fact, it would be several days before we got a look at the little guy.  When we got him home and opened the cage he shot like a bolt of black lightning across the house and took refuge under the couch.  Two days later I ran the broom under the couch just to see if he was still there.  He darted out, gave me a really nasty look, and ran back in.  The next day Jeff, at much risk of injury to himself, grabbed the cat out and threw him into the bathroom with a little food and water.  This actually worked.  Riley locked herself in the bathroom with him and after a couple of days of this he was quite ready to come out and be nice.

Since then he has been a great cat.  He is cuddly almost to the point of being a codependent.  He sits at my feet almost like he’s standing guard.  He curls up on my shoulder (okay so that’s annoying) and purrs in my ear.  And, oh, the things he puts up with from Riley!  She carries him all over the house and he just goes limp and glares at me, almost as though he’s saying, “You going to do anything about this?”  She brings him into whatever room she’s playing in and closes the door and he just lies there.  Unless someone opens the door.  Then we see the furry, black lightning bolt again.  There have even been times when I’ve heard Riley say, “Okay, Glad, let’s play hide and seek.”  Then I hear her counting to ten and see the cat run off to another room.  After a moment I hear, “Found you! Okay now it’s your turn to find me.”  Then Riley will go stand behind a door or curtain and, sure enough, a moment later the cat will come to her.

Mostly, though, he sleeps.  In a sunny spot, on a lap, in the electronics, under a blanket… any warm, cozy, quiet place will do.  Of course, being a cat, he occasionally does something like mistake a mop of blonde curls for a ball of yarn causing Riley to scream that she doesn’t love him anymore.  Obviously this isn’t true because within a few hours she’s carrying him around like a ragdoll again.  I guess, all things considered, Jeff was right when he said giving her a cat would be the best birthday present ever — even when he does his furry tumor impression 🙂

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Posted on October 11, 2011, in Autism, Riley. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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