Hot for Kitty

Here were the two jobs: Product Marketing Manager at Autodesk for their online products for architects, construction professionals, and engineers; Web Editorial Manager at Adobe Systems. Upside to Autodesk: continuity, already know the politics, bonus in April, location of the office. Downsides? Travel.

They told me officially 25%, which is one week a month and doable. Someone unofficially told me to expect 40% or more. My would-be manager travels 98.9% of the time. He's a fiend for the Blackberry, replying to emails within seconds.

I chose Adobe, deciding to stay home (all the time) and get a cat. Now I have everything I need: litter box, litter, food, treats, toys, scratching post (Thanks, Peggy!), bowls. Just no cat.

Which is not for lack of trying. Tried to get one at the SPCA over the weekend, but they were running low. Turns out kitten season starts in the spring, and their inventory is depleted. People come in for a kitten and go home with a cat. I am so hot for a cat that I almost took home a 15-year-old gray ("blue") long-haired animal named Casey. I changed my mind when they told me he's been having issues with diarrhea and vomiting for the past week or so. There are many things I can deal with; catshit on my new duvet cover is not one of them. (Thanks for the duvet mom!)

Meanwhile I am truly suffering cat deprivation. It's like all my maternal urges have been redirected into cat acquisition. It's a little scary. I can see how people end up with 3. Or 6. Or 8 cats. Will this stop with one? Will I have the self control? Only time will tell.

I already have narratives about what I will do with my cat: we will watch movies together. He will chase a feather on a string. Eat skin from my fish dinner. Lap up unused chicken broth. We'll have a negotiation game around coat-brushing, just like any good relationship. There's even a scenario where I make him warm milk at bedtime.

Clearly, I am already in a lot of trouble. Last night I went to a work friend's house. She's just been "given" three cats. I practically mugged her for a 9-year-old tabby named Owen. And I wanted a black cat. At the last moment our mutual better judgment stopped me from taking one home right then. I did, however, threaten to come back later. The cats came froma household of 6 cats, one woman. The woman had taken two of the cats with her to England. I'm sure it was very Sophie's Choice.