Project Izzy

I've been battling a sense of complacency for the past few holiday seasons, so this year, I decided to shake things up a bit and throw a cat into the mix. I'm catsitting.

Who is the fortunate feline? Aubrey's little bundle of joy: Izzy. As she had little or no intention of shuttling him home on a commuter flight to Albany, she needed a catsitter. "Awesome," I said. "I can't wait for Thanksgiving dinner now!" Dad was of the same spirit when he heard the news: "Your mother hasn't made that since you were little!" Cooking-the-cat jokes aside, everyone (Mom) agreed to the visitor, so long as I cleaned up after it.

On Tuesday afternoon, Aubrey and I were in the apartment, collecting last-minute Izzy items and enticing him to eat a kitty treat. The kitty treat was so important because it contained a kitty tranquilizer pill that would knock him out for the drive home. Ten minutes before the airport van was scheduled to leave, we were left to chase a very non-tranquil Izzy around the apartment.

Izzy did not sleep on the way home. He meowed. A lot. An average of ten times per minute, I would guess, since I was counting for awhile. I even pulled over at a gas station to see if there was something really wrong, but realized that he was just being ornery, and I was the only thing wrong with him. I turned up the radio and we drove on.

So we've been hanging out for the past few days, and Izzy seems slightly more comfortable than before. He hides in the back of our linen closet during the day, and I bother him when I'm bored. Then when he wants attention and a scratch behind the ears, he meows at me when I'm asleep. Before I'm ready to wake up.

Before dawn.

But that's what I get for offering him a place at the foot of my bed. (It seemed more comfortable than the freezing-cold closet). It all tends to drive Mum a bit crazy, which is great. When annoyed, capricious, or emotionally-distressed, I holler, "IZZY!" So Mum thinks I'm going to be a creepy old cat lady when I grow up. Izzy often ignores me, so I call out, "Why don't you love me?" Mum thinks I should get a real boyfriend because she cannot handle me in such a state because of a cat. I think it's hilarious. Perhaps when I go back to school I'll tell her we eloped. But I wouldn't do that to Aubrey. I know he stole her heart first.